War of the Fairies
by Split Infinitive
Summary: Link leads a motley crew of miscreants on a search for a cure for his wife, the fallen Princess Zelda. The cure,though,happens to be slap bang in the middle of a warzone.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda and all related characters and names belong to Nintendo.

**War of the Fairies**

**1 – Prologue**

She burst through the murky cloud at a dizzying speed, her sleek wings slick with sleet and rain, then spun, diving under the form of a Great Dragon, its slow-moving scaly form radiating vast waves of shimmering heat. Opening her wings slightly, a spray of water exploding into the night as a result, Hawthorne the Fairy pulled out of the dive, the wind screaming in her ears as it tried to buffet her here and there. In the distance she caught sight of the silent, imposing form of the Lost Woods and Kokiri Forest, and her heart leapt just a notch.

_Yes, it's home, no doubt, but stop being silly. You'll be back there before sunrise. That is...if it's even worth going back there now._

A blanket of burning lights unfolded beneath her as she buried her thoughts, and Hawthorne honed in on her destination – the Hyrulean city of Mountbasten, known commonly as Dragon Point, Dragon Lair and even, to some, as Dragon Roost. Laughing as she began to spin, Hawthorne drove through the city's Emerald Arches, lit by ghostly illumination that danced on the polished surface, then dodged and weaved her way through a veritable forest of legs, hooves, wheels and the occasional splash, though from her viewpoint it was almost like trying to dodge a huge wave. Finally, after spotting the dwelling she was aiming for, Hawthorne curved upwards with a flutter of wings, spilling Fairy Dust behind her, then came to a stop outside a window looking in on a darkened room.

Hawthorne closed her eyes, held her breath – and then stepped through the glass. It was a little known technique that only Service Fairies possessed, and even then they could only use it when on the job. The sounds of the city below sank instantly into a muffled thud, steady as a heartbeat, and Hawthorne pursed her lips, surveying the scene. Splintered shards of moonlight illuminated the room briefly, and she could see that was standing on a chest of drawers, itself beside a bed, within which was the huddled sleeping form of a small girl, her long auburn hair spilling out onto her pillow.

"Oh, that's just lovely," Hawthorne whispered as she spied those very same strands. For Hawthorne was a Hair Fairy; her task was not dissimilar to the Tooth Fairy ("Pfft! Amateur!" she would say to herself whenever _that_ woman was mentioned), except that, instead of pinching a tooth, she took a strand of hair in exchange for a gold coin. Pulling a sack from her belt and whistling softly to herself, Hawthorne nonchalantly tip-toed her way across the varnished surface, one bare foot over the other.

She paused in front of a beautifully constructed comb, woven with carefully carved patterns and, after a surreptitious glance to the left and right, picked it up and dropped it into her sack. "She won't miss it, no doubt," Hawthorne reassured herself in a whisper. "Won't miss it at all."

With another flutter of wings, Hawthorne flew up to the girl, and observed her chest rising and falling softly, her eyes shut tight. "Hmm," the Hair Fairy said, mulling over the sight with a puzzled frown. She floated down to the pillow, took the end of a strand of hair, wrapped it around her tiny fist, and pulled.

Nothing happened.

"Tsk," Hawthorne said in a voice thick with irritation. "Not one of _those _again."

Chewing the inside of her cheek Hawthorne rummaged about in her bag, a thoughtful look on her face. Her eyes came to rest upon a pick-axe, thought about for a moment, then shook her head with a "Nah." Her hands curled around a solid circular object. "Ah ha!" Hawthorne said, pulling the Mini Goron Bomb free. "Eheheheheheh!" she snickered as she lit the fuse with some fairy dust. The Bomb spat, sizzled, then caught, Hawthorne's nose twitching as the sharp scent of something burning filled the air. She set the Bomb down beside the pillow, then flew up, her fingers in her ears –

The girl shot upright, eyes wide, screaming as the Bomb went off with a tiny pop. A small clump of her hair, enwrapped within a thin wisp of smoke, plumed into the air and, in a blink of an eye, Hawthorne grabbed one, flicked a coin onto the pillow and dove through the window. She managed to catch sight of the bedroom door bursting open and frantic parents rushing in before she swooped down to the street below. With a satisfied sigh, Hawthorne brushed herself down, flicked her own hair out of her eyes, and slid the strand of little girl hair into her sack.

"Well, well, well." Hawthorne froze as the deep voice reached her. Slowly she turned around, inwardly groaning as she saw the small group of male Fairies watching her with arms folded and haughty expressions. There were three of them, clothed in long robes, their wings beating slowly.

"The Self-Righteous Posse!" she breathed, and knew instantly it was a mistake when their eyes hardened.

"We," said the leader, heavy disdain in his voice, "prefer the name The Righteous Keepers of the Flame." He looked over her in a way that made her uncomfortable, then added: "I see you're still _serving _the pathetic germs, giving them money while you take away something they don't need." He glanced at her sack, saw the comb peeking out. "Though in your case, you seem to take that little something extra, don't you, my dear? My, my, have we been a bad Fairy today?"

Hawthorne, her feet like lead, backed away. "Leave me alone!" she gasped. "Just you leave me alone!"

"No," the leader spat. "We must teach you the error of your ways. We must show you the true Light of Fairy Philosophy."

It would have come out as ridiculous from anyone else – it _was _ridiculous – but when this particular Fairy said it, it sounded very much like a threat. Hawthorne rallied. She knew the ways, she'd been taught their traditions. "There's...there's not only _one_," she squeaked. She hated the way her voice hitched in her throat. "I mean...I mean there's more than one way to interpret the old ways. If we want to serve we can! You can't change that."

"Wrong," the Righteous Fairy replied, his robes billowing in the breeze. "There _is_ only one way. Our way." His baritone voice seemed to drill straight into her soul. "The way of Fairy Truth – all Fairies who don't share this are not even worthy of the name." Sparks of anger danced in his eyes. "And _those _particular individuals should be...removed."

"The...the Treasure of the Ancients," Hawthorne swallowed, then took in a breath, "The Treasure of the Ancients – it's all there. 'Proud to Serve', we are, that's what it says, no doubt."

A flicker of disdain passed over the leader's face. "I think you'll find," he said, "that it says 'Proud to be Free. Proud to be True. Proud to be Chosen." His voice dropped, his eyes blazing. "You know what it means to be 'chosen?' It means we're special. Better. The best."

Hawthorne grit her teeth. "You don't know! You've never seen it!"

The leader sniffed. "Neither have you, I'd wager." He glanced at his two friends, then smiled a smile that stabbed Hawthorne to the heart with fear. "But, come along now...we're all Fairies here. I think all _you_ need, my dear...is a little love."

Hawthorne's hand went straight to her mouth. "No!" she gasped.

The leader, his eyes like flint, snapped his fingers. "Mr C!"

"Not him!" Hawthorne whimpered, tears in her eyes.

A fat blob of a fairy with a childlike face and tiny wings buzzed into view. It held a bow, a quiver tied to its back, and his chest seemed to be covered in gold chains and medallions then clinked as he hovered.

The Self-Righteous Posse grinned sickly grins. "Mr C," the leader said. "Please show Miss...Miss?"

"Hawthorne," squeaked Hawthorne.

The leader's grin widened as he knitted his fingers. "Miss Hawthorne...please show her the true meaning of _love_."

Mr C, his wings buzzing furiously like a bee trapped in a bottle, slid an arrow into his bow. "I pity the fool that don't know how to love."

"Not him..." Hawthorne whispered, her eyes widening.

"I'll get this sucka," Mr C raised his weapon, pulling the bowstring taut.

"Not _Cupid_!" Hawthorne screamed as the arrow tore through the air aimed straight for her chest. Acting on instinct she somersaulted backwards, landing with a grunt behind a broken and discarded metal beam. More arrows speared the air above her head, and Hawthorne ducked, her heart screaming as the wall behind her erupted in clouds of falling masonry and popping hearts.

"Come back here, fool!" Cupid called, reaching back for another set of arrows.

Hawthorne pressed her back against the cold metal beam, flinching as the arrows skimmed off of the top, spilling blood-red sparks down onto her head. Her hair sizzling, Hawthorne hugged herself tightly as the _pings _and _zings_ of the hail of arrows reverberated around her head, almost deafening her.

_I have to get out! I promise I'll never take anything else but hair ever again, but please let me get out! _she told her trembling body. _I have to fly!_

Her face scrunching up in sheer determination, Hawthorne curled her hands into fists just as she heard Cupid call: "Come out here, you sucka!" With a yell, she leapt, ran, then launched herself into the air, her wings beating like they'd never beat before. She heard the spit of the bowstring, felt the heat of the arrows on her tail, then lurched to the left, dodging one, and dived, dodging –

She screamed as the arrow hit her on the tip of one wing. Snapping her head around she saw a heart forming out of thin air atop a charcoal streak on her right wing. "No!" She banked sharply to the left, pulling away from the heart before it could touch her – the last thing she wanted was to fall in love with the Self-Righteous Posse – then with a roar of triumph she dived, and then curved up steeply, gold coins flying free from her sack. Hawthorne didn't care. She was free!

"Sorry, boss," Mr C said, hovering beside the leader of the Posse as he watched Hawthorne disappear into the distance. "I pity that fool."

"Not to worry, Mr C," the leader said, stiffening his neck and straightening his back. He motioned at the others. "Let us leave...there's plenty more of the ignorant that need to be educated." They waited a moment, just in time to see a single gold coin drop out of the inky darkness, land on its edge, spin, then shimmer to a stop before they all turned away.

**A/N:** Um, hello? Was that me who said 'I'll never write again and this time I mean it?' Oh, ha ha, surely that was some other Mr Infinitive. Look, I think you guys should ignore me every time I say that (I bet most of you did anyway) – I'm like the drug addict walking around with a big dopey grin muttering 'Addicted? Not I!' This time you can blame Nate (you know who you are) for this particular resurrection. He's also responsible for inspiring a scene later in chapter 3. Anyhow, enjoy...


	2. Recruitment Drive

**2 – Recruitment Drive**

Mr Red sat back in his plush chair, his legs stretched lazily under the table, and let the sights and sounds of Mountbasten's most expensive eatery wash over him, almost lulling him to sleep, his eyelids heavy. Almost. A thin smile danced on his lips. He was far too professional for _that. _Decorated cutlery, glinting as the heavy torchlight caught it, scraped against plates forged in the deepest, rarest dwarf mines, and the happy murmur of meaningless conversation buzzed from the well-fed, well-dressed clientele. The serving girls and serving boys, immaculately clothed themselves, darted in and around the tables with practised ease.

_Far too much lavish wealth on display here, what? _Mr Red thought to himself. _Why, a concerned citizen should ease them of their not inconsiderable burdens, I do think. Of course, I'd ask first. Shame they always say 'no'. Oh well, that's life._

He glanced behind him, saw the diamond encrusted chandelier spinning slowly overhead, a veritable swarm of colour and light, and smiled, happiness bubbling inside him. Then again, he mused, he was _always_ happy. Mr Red turned back to his fellow diner, looked at him from over the tip of his glass – he'd ordered sugared drinks, fizzing quietly beneath a limp slice of lemon - and listened.

"Everywhere I go it's the same," the ReDead was saying. "Everyone wants to avoid me. All I want is a little chat, maybe a cup of tea and a slice of cake, but is that what I get? Noooo…I just get screams, fainting, and the occasional scruffy layabout trying to drive a silver stake through my unbeating heart. I mean, honestly."

Mr Red, though inwardly tired of his friend's constant whining, kept his smile in place. "Old chap, I'd say it was because people aren't used to the dead, what?" He ran a finger around the rim of his glass. "But, chin up, eh? It's not that bad."

The ReDead's eyes widened. "Not used to the dead? Not used to the dead!" He slapped one undead hand down onto the table, making their drinks jump. "And who do you think are the majority on this world, hmm?" He smacked his chest. "We are! The dead! A somewhat silent majority, I admit, but a majority nonetheless. And, anyway, it's not like the rest of you aren't going to experience it as well. It just boggles the mind."

A serving girl, smiling despite the haggard look in her eyes, spotted their table, and honed in on them, dodging trolleys of food with an enviable grace. The ReDead, sensing the motion, slowly began to look up. The serving girl, not knowing what she was about to encounter, turned her head slightly to meet his gaze. Years of habit kicked in, and the ReDead's eyes sparked with a molten glow -

And in a flash of light, the serving girl turned instantly to stone. The two friends turned to look at her, saw her notescroll hanging limply from her fingers, saw the expression of half-bewilderment forming on her features.

Mr Red, closing his eyes, let his head sink into his hands. "I really can't take you anywhere, can I, old chap?"

The ReDead, his gaze on the floor and his undead cheeks blossoming rose, managed to look suitably sheepish.

"Anywhere we go, it's always the same result," Mr Red went on. "We can never get past the drinks before you have to go and petrify the hired help, what?"

"Sorry," the ReDead mumbled.

There was a plop, then a fizz, then a hiss.

Mr Red arched an eyebrow. "Your nose has just dropped into your drink."

"Sorry," the ReDead replied, fishing the said item from his sugared drink.

"I guess we should leave, what? Before these lovely people unwrap themselves from their own little worlds and actually notice what's happened."

"I'm a failure," the ReDead moaned, his shoulders sagging (and almost dropping off). "That's what I am. I'm no good alive or dead. I'd ask you to kill me, but it's already too late."

Mr Red, one of life's eternal optimists, patted his friend on his undead hand. "There, there, old chap, don't be so hard on yourself." He flicked his glass; it sang in response. "You know the difference between you and me, what?"

The ReDead shrugged, shedding undead skin as he did so.

Mr Red picked up his glass. Clear sparkling liquid sloshed mid-way. "You see this glass, old chap, and think it's half-empty." He smiled, and set the drink down on the table. "But me…I see this glass and see it as half-full."

A shadow fell across their table. The two friends froze. "While I, on the other hand," the newcomer said brightly, sweeping the glass up in one hand. "I see this glass and think: Are you not having this drink, then? No? In that case, can I have it?" He downed it in one gulp. "Thanks very much, mate!"

Mr Red almost fell out of his chair. "You!"

The newcomer grinned. "Me!"

"The Hylian!" For the first time ever in his life, Mr Red felt all his happiness and well-being drain from him like an upturned pitcher of water. Pure dread flowing through his veins, he whirled out of his chair, knocking the table over as he did so and then faced-

the point of the Hylian's sword. Azure eyes bore into him. "Hel-_lo!_"

How had he moved so fast? Mr Red staggered back, dazed, noticing that all conversation had stopped in the eatery and all eyes were upon them, then spun around, his back to the Hylian, and set his legs ready to-

The tip of a blade pricked his stomach. Mr Red gaped as he found himself face-to-face with the grinning, blond-haired Hylian madman once again.

"Now, now, mate," the Hylian said. "I was looking forward to a little happy reunion – a little sharing of the ideas, mutual back-slapping and the like, if you will – and I do hope you were going oblige and not make a rather hasty getaway. I mean, that would be pretty bad form, don't you think?"

A thud rang out from behind them.

"Sorry!" the ReDead called cheerily "No cause for alarm! It's just that my arm's dropped off!"

The Hylian frowned – and in that moment of distraction, Mr Red moved. He barged past the madman, leapt onto a table, Mountbasten's finest roast meat squelching under his boots, then jumped again, grabbing at the chandelier. He yelled as he swung across the dining room, a spider-web of cracks from the ceiling raining loose bits of masonry down onto his head. Letting go, Mr Red hit the floor in a roll, sprang to his feet, then burst out through the doors onto the street, almost slipping on a sludge of rotten fruit in the process.

He glanced left, saw the carriages rumbling through the uneven streets, their drivers cracking the air with their whips, then right, with the crowds of merrymakers walking this way and that, oblivious to his distress, and then finally he dived into a sidestreet. The torchlight was dim here, the walls stained with heaven-knows-what, and he had to weave his way through broken boxes and piles of garbage. Mr Red's mind raced – how had the Hylian found him? And, more importantly, what did he want? It wasn't everyday that the usually easygoing Mr Red felt a touch of unease, but at the moment his heart was gripped with the clammy hand of sheer terror.

Mr Red stumbled down the street, listening keenly and managing to only hear the distant bark of an agitated dog. He peered through the haze of smoke that slipped its way out from the eatery's kitchens – and then, all of a sudden, the windows that lined the walls popped open one by one and Mr Red realised that the housewives living in the adjacent building were planning to throw out their waste water.

"Hey, watch out!" one woman cried, her saggy cheeks wobbling, as Mr Red had to duck to avoid a bucketload of foul-smelling slop that went flying through the air, before splattering against the ground.

"What are you doing here, you scamp!" another shouted as Mr Red gracefully twirled away from more incoming muck.

Another window snapped open, another head appeared and: "Hel-_lo!"_

"AAAAH!" Mr Red cried, losing his footing, then careening against the wall. Head ringing, he slumped to the ground as the Hylian slowly stepped over him.

"Oh, I do hope you were not making a strategic withdrawal just then, mate," the Hylian said softly. "I mean you wouldn't want to hurt my feelings now, would you?" The Hylian grinned. "A little query, sunshine."

"What do you want with me?" Mr Red moaned, his head pounding and his vision blurred.

"You happen to be the best Trapsnapper in all of Hyrule, are you not?" the Hylian went on. "You know what I mean, I'm sure – all those deserted little underground getaways that are boobytrapped to the hilt. You can open those legit, right?"

Realisation dawned in Mr Red's mind. "I'll never help you!"

"No?" the Hylian replied.

Mr Red stiffened as the Hylian reached into a green hat perched atop his head. A bead of sweat ran a path down Mr Red's forehead, and his throat dried then tightened. Fear opened his eyes wide, to the point that they ached. The Hylian rummaged about a bit, then – pausing for just a heartbeat, just to torture him Mr Red was sure – he brought out a small glowing orb.

"No," Mr Red whimpered. "Not-"

The orb shuddered, unfurled, then: "Hey!" it cried. "Listen!"

"_Please!_" Mr Red cried.

The Fairy, a blur of pure light and fluttering wings, zipped down to hover beside one of Mr Red's ears. "Hey!" it cooed, before flying off to his other ear. "Listen!"

"Nnnnnnnnn!" Mr Red groaned, his teeth clenched.

The Hylian, his cloak trailing in the dust behind him, trotted off to the mouth of the street, whistling to himself all the while.

"Hey!"

"Mercy!"

"Listen!"

"_Please!"_

Standing looking out at the main street, the Hylian folded his arms, then blew against the tips of his fingers, smiling at the people walking past who, noticing his expression and the cries flying out from the darkened sidestreet, huddled together and walked quickly onwards, not daring to meet his gaze.

"Hey!"

A young couple, either freshly wed or still courting, slowed down as they approached, their eyes widening.

"The pain!"

"Listen!"

"Yes?" the Hylian said, smiling sweetly as the couple came to a stop.

"The _pain!_"

"There…erm…" the young man began. Carriages trundled through the cobbled streets behind them, their wheels sloshing through the puddles of a previous night's rain.

"Hey!"

"Aaaaah!"

The girl squeezed his arm, tightened the shawl around her shoulders, and then glanced up at the Hylian, concern shining in her eyes. "I think," she said, her voice hushed.

"Listen!"

"AAAAH!"

"I think," she went on, emboldened. "There's some sort of commotion back there."

The Hylian grinned. "Good heavens, _really?_" The crazed look on his face dared them to answer 'yes.'

"No, no," the young man replied, pulling his reluctant sweetheart away. "Our mistake. Come along, dear, leave the man to his business."

"Hey!"

"Alright, _alright_! I'll do it!"

The Hylian peeled himself from the wall he was leaning against and then sidled his way back to Mr Red, carefully stepping over loose debris, his footsteps ringing out in the dark. "Thanks, love," he said, nodding at the Fairy. He lifted his hat, and an arrowhead of light darted back in.

His chest heaving, and his eyes bloodshot, Mr Red glared up at his captor. "You fiend!" Then, miraculously, his face softened into a smile. "But a jolly nice man, what?"

"It's all for a good cause, mate, don't you worry."

"A barrel of laughs, I'm sure," Mr Red said, now completely and utterly in a state of ecstasy. "Sorry for the melodramatics, but it _was_ awfully exhilarating."

The Hylian, familiar with the peculiar manners of the esteemed Mr Red, only smiled some more. "There's a sport, mate." He beckoned at the fallen man. "Come, come, haven't got all day." He paused for thought. "Oh, and bring the ReDead with you." The Hylian looked up, his gaze fixing on the dark, imposing form of Mountbasten Cathedral looming over the city as the shadows of birds encircled the spire. High above, the Hylian spotted a small shape shuffle onto a ledge. Eyes narrowed, the Hylian rubbed his chin. "Hmmmm."

2

Simon DeLance stood on the very edge of the granite ledge, sweat dripping down his face, the wind whipping at his silver hair, and peered down at the vast chasm of the world beneath him. His heart pounded against his chest, making his ribs vibrate and threatening to tear through into the cool night air. Craning his head forward slightly, Simon dared to take a peek. The city of Mountbasten stared back, all blurred lights and muddy coloured buildings. A crowd had formed at the foot of the Cathedral, and they gazed up, hands over their eyes, mouthing words that Simon couldn't hear.

DeLance flung himself back against the wall, his trembling fingers scrabbling for the cool touch of granite behind. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes. "Remember the pain," he gasped, his breaths short and sharp. "Remember the injustice. Yes, the _injustice._" His voice thickened. "Remember why you need to do this. End it all, yesiree, end it all today."

Simon opened his eyes. In the distance one of the famous Mountbasten Dragons glided through the night sky, its sleek form spearing clouds drenched with moonlight, before majestically swooping straight up, wings flat against its hide, as though it were an intricately carved arrow. A dark silhouette of the dragon, tail unfurling lazily, danced over the moon for a heartbeat, then was gone, at one with the night. Even a sight as breathtaking as that couldn't sway Simon DeLance from his destructive thoughts.

He looked up, saw the hanging jaw of a stone gargoyle watching him impassively as it crouched over him, then looked to the left, the stained glass windows of the cathedral dull with its myriad colours unable to bloom without sunlight. Simon stood up straight, set his jaw, and steeled his bubbling nerves.

_This is it_, he vowed as he took a great lungful of air, _this is the end._ _Forgive me, all I wanted was-_

"Hel-_lo!"_

"WAAAA!" Simon said in response, his feet slipping and his arms swinging wildly. A great gasp erupted from the crowd below, punctuated by one or two shrill female screams. Even as his mind raced to save himself, Simon felt a selfish smudge of satisfaction that he'd managed to affect a pretty young girl – at least he hoped it was a pretty young girl – in such a manner. With every ounce of his strength, DeLance threw himself back against the wall once more, eyes shut tight and head spinning.

_Who in the blue blazes had said _that?

Simon dared to open one eye. There was someone else standing beside him. Someone nonchalantly lounging against the Cathedral wall, arms folded, and smiling lazily. A fluttering midnight blue cloak wrapped itself around a dark emerald tunic topped off, Simon couldn't help but notice, by a pair of pointed ears sticking out from under a mass of blond hair and a rather silly green hat.

"I," said Simon DeLance, his shuddering voice desperately trying to regain control, "am going to throw myself off this ledge."

The blond man stared back, a serene expression now accompanying an ever-present smile. "Lovely night for it, mate."

Simon's lip curled. "I know why you're here, oh yes I do," he said. "You're here to talk me out of it, aren't you? You're going to pretend you're my friend and don't really want to save me and all that la-dee-dah, when really you just want to convince me to change my mind." He puffed out his chest, as though offended. "Well, you won't. Let me tell you right here. You won't make me change my mind. No, siree."

"Perish the thought, mate," the other man replied with a dismissive wave. He gazed out over the city at night, seeing a curtain of blazing stars spill light onto the world, the moon nothing more than a buttercream orb enshrouded by clouds. He held out his hand. "Name's Link –" A roar from one of the dragons momentarily drowned out his voice "-Shadow Lord of Castleton. Pleased to meet you."

Simon blinked, then gingerly raised his trembling hand to Link's. "Castleton?" he said softly. "You're not in Castleton now."

"Am I not?" Link replied, an amused glint in his eye. "Oh dear."

Simon's mind raced. "Castleton's in the North. You've got no jurisdiction here, none at all."

"Shocking."

Clearing his suddenly dry throat, Simon went on. "My name's Simon DeLance," he said. "And I'm going to throw myself off this ledge."

"So you said," the Shadow Lord replied, deciding to examine his nails at that precise moment. "And why is it, pardon my curiosity, that you're wishing to engage in such a dire undertaking? Broken heart, is it? A little strumpet turned down your crumpets, shall we say?"

Simon leaned his head back against the wall, a look of disdain flooding his face. "Nothing so crass, I assure you."

"Oh, jolly good," Link replied, genuinely pleased. "Do tell me your tale of woe."

A gust of wind sprayed Simon's silver hair over his face as he took in a deep breath. Loose stones skittered off the edge of the ledge. He ran one hand through the untangled strands of his hair. "The truth will set you free, they say. Ha!" Bitterness engulfed his voice. "Did you know that in distant Klitchdonesia they pay the natives tuppence to make those excuses for clothes – latest fashions they say! -

worn by the youth of Mountbasten? All my idiot 'friends' wore them. Our horribly ignorant populace pay thousands for that trash! And you know those special running sandals? You know, I'm sure you do, the ones with the funny squiggles that all the little 'uns beg their parents for even though they cost an arm and a leg? You know that slave workers in Calatia sit in horrid conditions for over twelve hours a day to make those things? It's just unbelievable! The sheer brutality we inflict on others just to satisfy our desire for worthless little trinkets! It makes me want to throw myself straight off this – here, have you fallen asleep?"

Link's eyes snapped open with a start. "What cucco!" he shouted incomprehensibly.

Simon's jaw dropped open. "You did! You fell asleep!"

The Shadow Lord's eyes darted here and there guiltily. "Didn't!"

"Did!"

"Didn't!"

"Di-" Simon sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this. Nobody understands. This is exactly why I want to jump. Nobody cares. Nobody." He gazed out over the smoking rooftops, a wistful look on his face. "It's not like this in the Onimushan Empire," he said. "The Land of the Setting Sun. Those are people who know how to live. Not this crass buy-buy-buy life we have here, no. Over there, they have culture, traditions, spirituality. They treat each other with respect, they do, their kawaii girls calling you san and everything. They're the salt of the earth, they are, oh yesiree."

There was a heartbeat of silence. The wind swept more stones from the ledge. Then: "You haven't actually been to the Onimushan Empire, have you, mate?"

Simon's face fell. "No."

"In reality you have absolutely no clue what it's like there, do you?"

Simon looked miserable. "No."

"You've just read something in a book – or perhaps a play - and are desperately trying to imitate a culture - that you'd be completely lost in if you'd ever went there - just to make yourself seem different, aren't you? Just so you can feel a tad superior to the rest of us, eh, mate?"

Simon's head snapped up and he glared at the Shadow Lord. "If you're trying to convince me not to jump, you're not doing a very good job, you know that?"

Link shrugged. "Never said I was, sunshine."

Irritation hooked itself into Simon's heart and it wouldn't let go. "And why is it," he went on, his words soaked in anger, "that you're so irritatingly calm up here? It's not exactly safe you know. You could fall, oh yes!"

The Shadow Lord grinned, musing. The winking lights of the city below – a thousand flickering torchlights – blurred into one shimmering incandescent wave. "Because…"

"Because?" Simon snapped, finding Link's smile far too aggravating.

"Because, mate, I learned long ago that all the troubles in my head were just that – in me head. All those what-ifs, what-would-happens, and I-really-hope-it-doesnts – none of them ever actually happened, and if they did, they were never as bad as I'd imagined them to be. Now I just…trust."

Simon arched an eyebrow. "Trust in what?"

Link's mouth pursed into a thin smile. "Just let yourself go and trust, mate." He glanced at Simon. "Although in your case, you being in such a rather precarious position, it might be better if not let go at all, if not for your sake, then for the little audience you've built up down there."

As if on cue, a voice floated up from the throng. "Hurry up and jump will you?" came the irritated shout. "I paid a pound to watch this and it's getting a bit chilly!"

Eyes widening, Simon's face flushed red. "They're paying money to watch me jump!" he cried. From somewhere above came the familiar creak of dragon wings slicing the air. "What kind of sick people do we have here? They're insane!"

"The kind of sick people," Link muttered under his breath, "that think jumping off a ledge is equally insane."

"What? What did you say?"

"Nothing, sunshine," the Shadow Lord replied smoothly. "You know what's wrong with people today?"

"What?"

"Too wrapped up in their own little dramas, mate," Link said, rubbing his hands as his breath left his lips in wispy trails of steam, the easy familiarity in his voice giving the impression that he'd had to deliver this explanation many times in the past. "Think their slight knocks and the thwarting of their petty ambitions is a cause to weep over."

"Exactly!" Simon said, brightening at once. "That's precisely my point!"

"In fact," the Shadow Lord went on, his voice trailing off at a tangent. "Some of them are wallowing so much in their self-pity that they have to tell everyone about it, as though we were all begging to hear about all the juicy details or something. People wrapped up in themselves always make small packages, that's what I say. I mean, bleeding heck, some of them even tell stories about how miserable they are, and then sit around waiting for someone to hold their hands as though they were-"

Simon politely cleared his throat.

Link started. "I'm terribly sorry, I do apologise, I just got a little carried away there," he said, grinning. He reached under his hat, rummaged around a little, then pulled out a small bottle with crimson liquid sloshing from side to side. Pulling the stopper, the Shadow Lord offered the bottle to Simon. "Drink?"

Eyeing the bottle suspiciously, Simon frowned. "Is that alcohol?"

"Nothing of the sort, mate," Link replied, looking aghast. "Just a little tonic. Steady your nerves for your big drop, innit?"

Simon took the bottle from him, hesitated, shrugged, then took a sip.

"By the way, mate," the Shadow Lord said casually as he eyed Simon closely. "I heard that you were quite the dab hand at finding buried treasure. I wouldn't happen to have been misinformed in that regard now would I?"

His head buzzing, Simon smacked his lips and handed the bottle back. This stuff was _good_. "No, you're not wrong, not that it ever helped me much," he replied. "Why?"

The Shadow Lord of Castleton grinned –

then shoved Simon DeLance off the edge.

"WAAAAAAAA!" Simon cried for the second time that night. The crowd gasped, screamed, then as though they were all one person, took a large step back.

Link grabbed onto a wooden beam, then swung himself back through an open window into the Cathedral. He sprinted for the stairs, bats squeaking out of his path with a hiss and a flutter of leathery wings. Bounding down the curving staircase, each wooden step shuddering under his boots and coughing up spouts of dust as a result, the Shadow Lord of Castleton ran, keeping his ears open for the tell-tale-

There was a sickly dull thud from outside. Link froze.

Voices drifted in. Hushed voices, laced with fear.

"Is he…?" said one.

"I think…" said another, "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Look…he twitched…I'm sure he twitched!"

"That's it? I spent a pound for _that? _I missed the whole thing! He could've shouted before he did it or something! Bleedin eck!"

The Shadow Lord's mouth split into a grin. "Lovely!" he cackled. He slid down the last few steps, darted across to the main doors, then burst out into the open. "Out of the way!" he cried, pushing his way through the huddled crowd.

"'Oi!" said one man. "Can I have my money back?"

Simon DeLance lay slumped in the middle of the throng in a heap, managing a twitch and a groan here and there; the shocked onlookers, faces pale, some biting their knuckles, noticing the deep crack he'd made in the ground. Link crouched, his cloak pooling at his feet, then reached into his green hat. A moment later he held a bottle that sparkled like a star and, pulling the stopper with his teeth, he released the Fairy. The crowd ooh-ed and aah-ed as the little incandescent woman curled ribbons of light around Simon's crumpled form. Her job done, the Fairy flew into the night.

There was a heartbeat of hushed silence – and then Simon jumped up, his silver hair ruffled and a little unsteady on his feet, but otherwise without a single scratch. The crowd shrank back, gasped once more, then burst into warm applause.

A voice called out: "If I give you ten pounds, would you do that all again?"

Link took Simon by the arm, then led him away from the people. "How do you feel, mate?"

Simon wobbled, his eyes rolling. "Light…at end of tunnel."

"No, mate, that was just the Fairy Dust."

Finally, Simon's eyes focused. "Hey!" he blurted. "You pushed me!"

Link sniffed, glanced over his shoulder to make sure none of the crowd was following them, then turned back with a smile. "Did you perchance enjoy that merry experience?"

DeLance shook his head.

"Would you, mayhap, want to do it all again?"

"No!" Simon cried.

The Shadow Lord of Castleton grinned his ever-present grin. "Well, now that we've got that out of your system, we can go meet up with Mr Red and his compatriot, as there's a little favour I need to ask from all of you…"

**A/N: **Oh, and did I forget to mention that this was a sequel to 'Shadow Lord's Bane?' How remiss of me...


	3. Witchin

**3 – Witchin**

Time, Link mused as he stood in front of a desk creaking under the weight of a mountain of scrolls, was something he was rather short of at the moment. Somewhat ironic, he knew, considering he was the Hero of Time itself. If he'd been fortuitous enough to have the luxury of time, he probably could have basked in the fact that it was a rather lovely day today – sunlight poured down from a cloudless sky, coating the city with a layer of honey, and the freshly blooming flowers – an explosion of colours and scents – swayed in the gentle breeze outside.

"Say that again?" a voice rumbled from behind the desk. "You want a what?" The Chief of Mountbasten's Guardsmen – a blob of a Goron with a fierce face and clothed apparently in a tunic of weapons that clinked every time he moved – pierced the Shadow Lord of Castleton with a severe stare.

Yes, Link thought, time was short and petty little small-minded blighters like this Chief here were only more obstacles in his path. But he wasn't going to let them know that. He trusted. Everything would work out in the end – it always did.

"I was wondering," Link said, arms folded and voice pleasant, "whether myself and my esteemed colleagues here," he nodded at Mr Red, Simon DeLance and the ReDead standing behind him, "could trouble you for a permit that would enable us to enter Kokiri Forest and the Lost Woods?" A clock ticked on the wall, so loud that it was almost clucking, and the Shadow Lord was so certain that it was mocking him that it took every ounce of his self-control not to reach for his sword and shatter the bleedin thing to tiny bits. "Please?"

"Please?" The Chief almost smirked as he mimicked the Shadow Lord's voice.

"You'll have to forgive me, mate," Link replied, his fingers drumming against his arm. "I'm just the type of person who thinks things would be a whole lot more smoother if we all just followed proper manners."

The Goron raised a shaggy eyebrow. "And that's you, is it? Well-mannered?"

"I try my best. You'll forgive me if I don't always succeed. Better to have a principle to aspire to, something to try to aim for, to get there in the end no matter how many times you fall on your face while trying; better that than to have nothing but you're own petty little caprices driving you on."

The Chief pondered over those words as he flicked a tuft of hair peeking out from under his tunic. "A principle that you fail to live up to? Doesn't that make you a hypocrite?"

Link smiled; a small, sad one. "No, mate," he said. "Makes me human. But only if I admit it. Otherwise, I'd just be deluded, wouldn't I? Think I'm one thing, when in reality I'm another." Warmth entered his smile. "But if I do reach that point, if I do manage to encompass all those pretty principles – then, mate, that's when I become more than human."

"More than-"

"That's when I become truly alive."

Stretching his arms, his shoulder clicking as a result, the Goron Chief decided all of a sudden that he didn't like the turn this conversation was taking. The Shadow Lord of Castleton was familiar to him, but currently the man standing serenely in front of him seemed to have become a lot more...focused in his middle years. "So," the Chief said, smiling briefly as he scratched an itch at the corner of his mouth. "What was it you wanted again?"

Liquid blue eyes, as calm as a lake on a lazy summer afternoon, gazed back. "A permit to Kokiri Forest, if you'd be so kind."

"You hear that, Lemo?" the Chief said, turning to face a small Calatian scribbling away at a scroll, the scratch of his ink-stained quill whispering in the stuffy air. "Mr 'Shadow-Lord' requires a permit. Ha!"

"Ha!" Lemo chimed in, not even bothering to look up.

The Chief's chair creaked as he leaned forward. "You do realise that Kokiri Forest is now off-limits due to the Fairies going all-out against each other's throats? Little scamps, the lot of them."

Link was well aware of that fact – he also knew that since Mountbasten was closer in proximity to the forest than Castleton only an official document from here would secure safe passage for his merry miscreants through the warzone. "I was hoping," Link went on, "that you could pass me one on the sly. You know, in recognition for all the civic duties I've undertaken in this fair city of yours."

The Chief burst out with a bellow of deep laughter. "Can you believe this boy?" he spat. "Civic duties!" His eye gleaming, relieved that he was finally on familiar territory again, the Chief's hand flicked through the pile of scrolls then, after a moment's pause, he pulled one free with a crackle of parchment, then slammed it down on the desk.

Link leaned forward, peering, and read the words from the scroll. "WANTED: Link-" a bucket crashed outside, drowning out his voice – " a.k.a 'The Hylian', the alleged Shadow Lord of Castleton for Crimes Hereby Unmentionable. REWARD: 10, 000 rupees of pure gold."

Leaning back, angled sunlight glinting on his hair, the Chief eyed the Shadow Lord, a self-satisfied smirk sitting on his face. "What do you think about _that_ then? Hmm?"

"Hmm?" Lemo chorused.

Link grinned and arched an eyebrow. "Ten thousand?"

"Ten thousand," the Chief confirmed, nodding.

"Ten big bahonies," Lemo said.

"In that case," the Shadow Lord said, holding out his wrists, "I turn myself in."

The Goron Chief spluttered, sending flecks of saliva spinning into the air, as though he were choking. "_What? Why?"_

"Because, mate, I want to claim the reward on myself. Could do a lot with that kind of coin, if you know what I mean." He winked.

Eyes bulging, the Chief stared. "You can't turn yourself in to claim the reward!"

"Can't! Can't!" Lemo said, shaking his head.

"Why ever not?"

Before the Chief could reply, a dull thud rang out from behind them. They all turned to the source of the noise.

"Sorry!" said the ReDead. "Nothing to worry about! It's just my leg, it's fallen off, that's all!"

The Chief jiggled his not-quite-inconsiderable bulk in an attempt to regain his composure. "I don't think-"

A crash cut him off. They all turned.

"Sorry!" the ReDead said cheerfully, looking up at them from the floor. "Just not used to standing on one leg, that's all. Be fixed in a jiffy!"

"I wish I could fall apart like that," Simon DeLance said, his voice glum. "Would mean I would finally be rid of this stain they call life."

"Oh, come on, now, old chap," Mr Red chimed in, smiling. "No need to be so down. See, my friend the ReDead? Has a physical and nervous breakdown every five minutes, but he keeps on plugging away, the little trooper, what?"

Simon glared at him. "Why are you always so bloody happy? Don't you know what kind of a cruel, cruel world we live in?"

Mr Red, eyes sparkling and smile widening, went on, "Yes, isn't it wonderful, what? Fancy a bon-bon?"

Eyes narrowed, Simon stared at the candy. "Where did you get that? You didn't have that before." His eyes widened. "You didn't steal them from that child in the street, did you?"

"Deprived them from undeserving hands, old chap," Mr Red replied. "Besides, the child was torturing a cat – I distinctly remember how you said that you wish you could just cut your own head off from the sheer horror of it." He sniffed. "Though, to be honest, I would think your energies would have been better expended in stopping the little rascal, what?"

"Yes, but," Simon said, righteous indignation making his face puffy. "That doesn't mean you could take his...his bon bons!"

"Actually," Mr Red said, out of earshot. "I asked him nicely. He doesn't like bon bons, the silly chap."

Simon shook his head. "Just _what _is the world coming to, I ask you!" he seethed. "Makes me just want to jab the sharp end of a quill straight through my eyes!"

"Excuse me!" the ReDead called from the floor. "Could someone just help me out a tad? It's just that I think my big toe has rolled away and I can't seem to find it."

A tremor ran through the tiny room, a tremor that morphed into a shudder then an ear-splitting bellow. They all turned to see the Chief laughing helplessly, slumped in his chair, tears running down his golden face. He raised his eyes to meet Link's. "_This?_" he gasped. "This is the motley crew you're going to take into a warzone?"

The Shadow Lord stood still, a picture of cool tranquillity itself. Just trust, he said to himself, just trust. "I have every confidence in my erstwhile companions," he said softly.

The Chief regarded him for a moment. "You know what?" he said, sniffing away the last few tears. "I think I'm going to – yes, I am." He pulled free a fresh parchment, scooped the quill from Lemo's hand, then began writing. "I'm going to give you a permit – _just _to see how you get yourself out of this pickle. If you can, that is."

Silently, the Shadow Lord gave thanks. "You're too kind."

Waving away the compliment, the Chief finished the permit with a flourish then pushed it into Link's hands. "Away with you now. I've got real business to attend to."

Within minutes the group found themselves standing outside the Guardstation in the middle of a Mountbasten street. If he'd had a tad more time, Link was sure he'd be able to appreciate the beauty that had gone into constructing the city – the buildings were all works of art, lovingly carved from ivory and marble, and coloured reptilian emerald and flaming scarlet to match the dragons that flew overhead, silent natives of the Mountbasten sky. Sunlight refracted off of the dwellings making them shimmer with their own ethereal rainbow coloured light – a downright splendid spectacle, if Link said so himself.

Gravel crunched under his heel as the Shadow Lord spun around to face his crew. "Gentlemen," he said. "Take this opportunity to find some R&R and – if you'd be so prudent – find some weapons for yourself. Meet me outside the Grand Library at sunset – oh, and I do hope you'll be punctual; I'd hate to have to come and track you down. Now, scat!" He snapped his fingers as a sudden thought came to him. "Oh, and young Mr DeLance, mate, if you'd be so kind so as _not_ to do away with yourself, thanks very much. Stay away from nooses, ropes, crossbows and poisons – remember, me Fairies will just put you back together again." It wasn't true – dead was dead, and the Fairies only did their work on those seriously injured, but Simon DeLance didn't know that. And, besides, he only had two Fairies left, not including Navi. Link smiled. "Do we have an understanding?"

Simon glared, but nodded sullenly.

Link didn't precisely know what to do with Simon DeLance. He'd hoped that the actual shock of being pushed from a ledge would have knocked some sense into the blighter, but sadly it was not to be. Normally, the Shadow Lord would have no time for such a person – to him, life wasn't something to be thrown away so casually – but he needed the fool boy for the time being. Link himself was certain – though not exactly sure why he was so certain, and definitely wouldn't be spilling his guts out to anyone else to explain – that everything in life was bound together and intricately weaved from a single source, and so everything and everyone was needed, in their own little way, even if they themselves were too blind to see what their place in the grand scheme was. That's how he'd learned to just..._trust. _All was one, and one was all, or something. Still. It seemed to work just fine for him.

Watching the others disperse, Link stood listening to the carriages rumble past, the hooves of the horses tapping rhythmically against the dusty streets. After a moment he slipped into the crowd, and let them carry him off, as though he were caught in a tide of people, then, after spotting a suitably secluded spot far from the throng, he slipped away, the ringing buzz of the townsfolk's voices fading away into the background. He glanced left then right, then reached into his hat.

"Navi, love," he said, his voice quiet. "Patch me through to Castleton, if you'd be so kind."

The little Fairy whirled out from under his hat with a jingle, then spun to a stop, an azure crystal glittering in her tiny hands. "Hey!" she said. "Say 'Hello!'"

The crystal glowed with a sharp light then, as though fog had parted, it became opaque, revealing a grey skinned face distorted only by the jagged angles of the large jewel. "Link?" a feminine voice called. "Is that you?"

"Ah, Flipper, love," the Shadow Lord said. "Nice to be in touch."

The grey skinned face narrowed her obsidian eyes. "The name is Ruto," she said, menace coating each word. "As I'm sure you're aware."

"Whatever floats your boat, love," the Shadow Lord replied. He took in a deep breath, his demeanour changing instantly. "How is she?" he asked, a grim note entering his voice. "How are they all?"

"The Princess is getting worse, Link," Ruto replied, her voice forlorn. "So are the children. We're running out of time – whatever you're planning to do, you have to do it quick." An image of a clock appeared, and the Shadow Lord saw with some distress that the second hand was already facing the numeral 'six.' They were not counting hours, though, only the number of days left before the Princess – his wife, his beloved – and the children would perish from the mysterious disease that had struck them down a week earlier. _Trust,_ the Shadow Lord intoned inwardly to still his nerves. _It always works out in the end, and even when it doesn't, it's never as bad as you thought it would be. _That was what he'd told young Simon and that's what he had to believe himself. _There's always something good in every situation, Link, _was what Zelda used to say. _But it's only the wise who see it. _

"I'm on it, Crabs," he said, smiling. "Nothing to worry about."

"It's Ruto!" she snapped. "_Ru-to_!"

"Cod roe?" the Shadow Lord replied. "What kind of fool name is that? Link out!"

Ruto's scream of rage was cut short as the crystal's light vanished, snuffed out like a candle.

Wrapping his cloak around him, the Shadow Lord prepared to leave – when the temperature suddenly dropped. Link rolled his eyes as veins of jagged of lightning popped in and out of existence above his head, filling the air with the stench of burnt metal. Digging his heels into the earth, the Shadow Lord winked at Navi, then spun around to face: "Twinrova! Hel-_lo_!"

The witches, Koume and Kotake, circled his head, cackling as their gnarled brooms creaked under their weight. Bloodshot bulging eyes penning in huge hooked noses, the twin witches were nothing but bags of bad trouble wrapped in wrinkled skin. One trailed a bridge of ice in her wake, the other a tongue of flame.

Link stood his ground, grinning as though he'd met up with old friends. "So," he said, his voice cheery. "How's the diet going, then?"

"_What?_"

Shaking his head as he realised his mistake, the Shadow Lord quickly corrected himself: "I mean, how are you, mates?"

Koume and Kotake stopped short, bobbing up and down in mid-air as the air turned crimson overhead. "We," they said in unison, their voices a dam of ice, "are not men."

"I'm terribly sorry, I do apologise," Link said. It was starting to hurt to grin this long. "How are you, love?" he said, nodding to Koume. "Loves," he added, glancing at Kotake. Finally, he looked at both at the same time and added: "Lovers."

"_What!"_

"So!" Link said, not missing a beat. "What brings you out here to the great outdoors? I thought the Princess had banished you away to your little desert fortress – one of the more prudent of her pre-marriage ideas, if I may add – and that's where you now while away the no-doubt lonely twilight hours, conducting your sick, perverse breeding experiments with poor innocent camels."

"_"WHAT!"_

"I _mean,_" the Shadow Lord said quickly, massaging the sudden throbbing in his head while Navi darted behind him to hide. "_Why _are you here?"

Kotake kicked the air, setting her broom off, and cackled wildly. "Eheheheheheh!" she spat. "We get one day out every week, and just _had _to find you."

"I'm touched. No, really."

The witches ignored him as spears of lightning flashed out from the dark clouds encircling their heads. "Eheheheheheh!" Kotake said. "Heard the Hero of Time was in a spot of bother, we did."

"Heard things are not well up in Castle Paradise," Koume added.

"Fit as a fiddle, me," Link said, arms crossed over his chest once more. The wind blew, making his cloak balloon up, fluttering as stray scrolls bounced clattering down the street.

"Eheheheheheh!" Kotake said, the sun peeking out from behind her oversized head. "Not you, Hero. The Princessssss."

Koume grinned a yellow, rotted grin. "Tell us allll about it. Eheheheheh!"

"Why?" Link asked, genuinely curious.

"Why, we maybe able to help, of course!" They both cackled some more, as though this was the most hilarious concept in history.

One eye narrowed, the Shadow Lord pondered, then shrugged and snapped his fingers. "Navi – a little exposition, if you'd be so kind."

The Fairy twirled into the air, spilling twinkling light as though it were rain. "Hey!" she said, turning to one witch, then the other. "Listen!" She took in a deep breath, her incandescent form striking in contrast to the darkness of the witches, then said: "Fairies – two camps – one the Service Fairies like me-" she paused to pose a little "- who like to help people, the other, the Self-Righteous Posse who want Fairies to be pure and independent and and and _something._" She gasped, then: "Castleton – mysterious sickness – struck the Princess and all the children – physicians said they'd all die- Link, because he reads a lot and studies –" she paused to let the Shadow Lord shrug modestly "-found out that the disease can be cured, but only if a large group of Fairies work together to project their healing powers."

Another gasp, then: "_But!_ Now the two camps are at war – they're after the Treasure of the Ancients, you see, and they both believe the other has it– but in reality, Link found out-" she paused to let him sheepishly shrug again "-that the Treasure is buried in a forgotten booby-trapped Temple in Kokiri Forest." She nodded, just because it felt like the right thing to do at the time. "We're going to find it – find ourselves a large group of Fairy Tribes- and then...and then..." She glanced at the Shadow Lord.

Link shrugged. "Well, to be brutally honest, I don't really know. I'm not even entirely certain that it's going to work." He felt a twinge in his heart as his tongue finally formed the words that had been rolling around his head for some time. "Something will turn up, it always does, wouldn't you know. I'll probably sell the Treasure to the highest bidder – amongst the Fairies, of course – but only if that particular party agrees to help me as a result. Then, I'll most likely dump the jewels and let them kill each other."

He could feel Navi glare at him, waves of disapproval rolling off of her tiny face. She turned back to the witches. "And _then_," she said, her voice suddenly laced with a sharp edge, "we're going to save the little children and the Princess!" She panted, out of breath, before adding: "Again. Save the Princess, again. Can you help?"

Tiny spheres of crackling lightning popped and flashed as the twins howled with gleeful laughter. "No!" they chorused. "But we can spend the rest of our imprisoned days making merry at your misfortune!" Enshrouded by billowing clouds, they peered down at the Shadow Lord. "You, Hero, are in it deep."

Link stepped forward. "And you, mates-" Koume glared. "-loves-" Kotake snarled. "-lovers-" They both bared their teeth. "_Friends._" Link wiped his brow. "You both are leaving."

"We are?" the twins chimed in unison.

The Shadow Lord lifted the Goron Bomb that he'd surreptitiously procured from his hat while Navi had been speaking, and grinned as the spitting sparks illuminated his face. "Oh, but I simply insist."

Their already huge eyes bulging as they saw the sizzling fuse, the witches shrieked, then kicked the air, desperate to escape, but only managing to collide into the other and-

Link lobbed the bomb. There was a flash, a rumble and a plume of smoke, then the twin witches went flying into the air, a fountain of flame chasing them all the way.

"Woo hoo!" the Shadow Lord cried, watching their flight path. People from the city screamed as the witches smashed through one tall tower in a puff of imploding splinters and shattered glass, then another and yet another. "HahahahaHAAAA!" Link cackled, hopping from one foot to the other. He strained his neck to see two dots vanish into the distance, accompanied by a faint whistle that ended abruptly in a dull thud. Wiping his hands, the Shadow Lord beckoned to his Fairy friend. He cleared his throat noisily. "Come, come, Navi, no time for your little fun and games," he said, as he quickly composed himself. "There's still work to be done."


	4. Trees

**4 – Trees**

The Grand Library of Mountbasten was one of those quaint little places that really rather did live up to its name. Link, his fellow adventurers striding behind him, marvelled at the immaculately polished floor that squeaked every time they stepped on it, and wondered at the thin marble pillars, ringed with gold, that curved up into arches made in the image of twin dragons. If he got back home – _once_ he got back home, he vowed, he'd build something just as splendid. Books and scrolls filled the shelves, parchments rustling in the torchlight, scroll handles clicking as the hushed browsers pushed them into place, and the air was heavy with a musty scent – Link, ever the avid seeker of knowledge – thought he was in paradise.

Not that the Shadow Lord had the time to stay, he thought sadly. He looked down at the crystal in his hand – he found that he'd been holding it so tight that it dug unsightly red lines into his palm – and the image of the clock floated up to the surface. The second hand was just approaching 'seven' now.

"Gentlemen," said Link, stopping short. "Split up and begin your search."

Simon DeLance, an odd expression lining his face, coughed politely. "What is it we're looking for again?"

Closing his eyes, the Shadow Lord sighed. "It is tradition, for people such as ourselves, to procure a map – and a compass – before we enter any of the broken-down, ghastly-creature-infested hovels that the people of Hyrule – in their sweet ignorance – label as Temples. A more accurate name would be 'Deathtraps from the Very Depths of the Pit of Fire Itself', or alternatively, 'The Great Cucco Resthome,' which, now that I come to think of it, is what I'll call them from now on." He paused to ponder about it, then added: "In fact, soon as I'm back in old Castly, I'll pass a decree to that effect." He took in a deep breath, noticed that the others were looking at him strangely, and smiled. "Today, we're looking for the map. Our hidden temple – pardon me as I try not to laugh at that name – is so cunningly disguised that those that designed it decided to leave the map here in this very Library, back when it was known as Old Man Sawdust's Little Hut of Horrors, so convinced were they that nobody could find it."

"My word," said Mr Red, gazing around with a look of supreme contentment resting on his face. "This is some place, what?"

Link smiled some more. "Try not to lose your head, mate," he turned to face the ReDead, "or any other part of your body, if you'd be so kind."

"But," said Simon, stepping forward. "What about the compass?"

Licking his lips, the Shadow Lord explained: "I've come to the conclusion that the compass is actually really quite useless. Not only that, but you can usually find it in a conveniently placed treasure chest inside the very temple – would you hark at the name? – itself." He cleared his throat, as though a little embarrassed. "And, um," he fished inside his hat, "-I bought one already. From nice Mrs Peabody in the Mountbasten gift shop. Why I never thought of this in the past is somewhat beyond me." He turned around. "Now, gentlemen. I believe we have work to do."

The group dispersed, and Link found himself perusing a shelf beside a large oval window. The day had turned sour as the sun had declined and now great spurts of rain drummed down on the glass, blurring any sight of the outside world. Link found his heart humming in time to the beat – along with the crackle of torches that spat in the near gloom, this was one of those days that, Link mused, one should stay indoors and just relax and float away. Shame he had no time to do so.

He turned his attention to the bookshelf and ran a finger along the uneven row of book spines and scroll handles. Pulling a tome out at random, he blew on the cover to scatter the dust, then peered at the title.

Link raised an eyebrow.

He read the title out loud: "_The Legend of Esmerelda: the Saxophone of Space."_

Shaking his head, he set it back in its place, then picked out another. This time his eyes narrowed. He read the title: "_Larry Motter and the Prisoner of East Pakistan._" He looked up. He glanced around the room. He gazed out of the window. He looked back at the book. Then, muttering under his breath, he said: "Where in the blue blazes is East Pakistan?"

Looking up, Link saw Navi floating by the window, staring into the rain-soaked distance, her features tight. "Penny for your thoughts, love?"

"It's nothing," she replied, her already tinny voice sounding even smaller.

But the Shadow Lord knew his old friend better than that. "I'm sure the rumours aren't true, love," he said, his voice equally quiet. "I'm sure it's more a skirmish than an all-out war."

"I hope so." She sounded broken, disconsolate.

Link pursed his lips. He knew he wasn't very good at this sort of thing – this was more Zelda's forte. He held out his palm. "Hop on over here, love." Navi glanced at him uncertainly, then slowly descended to land on his hand. "I know this may sound like I've gone a bit soft in the head in my middle age, but whatever happens, love, there's always you and me." He smiled. "Always has, always will."

Navi gave him a brave smile. "I know."

"You stopped me from going insane when the Princess – who, I suspect, was a little gone in the head at that point in time as well; I think marriage to me helped cure her of that particular malady – when the Princess sent me on her little quest for the Spiritual Stones, single-handedly breaking all child labour laws in every single known state in the world."

Navi giggled, an amused glint in her eye. "Oh, really?" she squeaked. "I thought you said I _drove_ you insane, not kept you from it."

"You did that, too." Link frowned. "I mean you did both. Or one or the other. Or both at the same time. Or something."

Navi laughed helplessly, then looked him straight in the eye. "Thanks," she said. "I mean it." There was a moment's silence before she added, "But, Link...are you really going to let the Fairies just kill each other?" She smiled nervously. "Like you told Twinrova you would?"

"I do what I have to, love, what's right by the Princess." He hadn't wanted the words to come out so harsh, but it was done now. Trying to defuse the situation, he said, "Silly woman probably bit into some poisoned apple some witch brought into the Castle. I mean it was only last month that she pricked her finger on a spinning loom and she was out like a baby weaned on too much Red Potion. Had to drop her into the moat to wake her up." He blinked, reminiscing. "Dropped her in a second time after she complained about me dropping her in the first place. And what was she doing with a bleedin loom in the first place anyway?"

"Well," said Navi, smiling again, and knowing full well that Link was embellishing the story somewhat. "I can tell that _you_ are worried."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Making herself comfortable on Link's palm, Navi propped her chin up on one hand, kicking the air as she laid flat on her front. "Nowadays you only ever tease the Princess when you're worried about her."

The Shadow Lord was about to snap out a stinging denial but, with a thousand memories swirling in his head, his face softened in a rare moment of candour. "We're like trees, love, the three of us – you, me, the Princess."

"Trees?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "If you plant seeds too close to each other, you know how they grow?" Without waiting for a reply, he said, "Together, love. Winding around the other, all the branches tangled up so that you can't make out one tree from the other. That's the three of us, love. Even if one wanted to let go, they couldn't. You cut one of us down, the other two just aren't...whole anymore."

Navi looked up at him, blinking, her face a shadow in the fading light. "Sometimes even trees do have to let go."

"Not unless you trust," Link replied automatically.

"Trust?"

The Shadow Lord pressed his lips together in an enigmatic smile. "Never mind, love."

There was a tap on his shoulder. Link, letting the little Fairy flutter away from his hand, turned to see Simon DeLance behind him, casting furtive glances here and there. "Is there something troubling you, young Mr DeLance?" the Shadow Lord asked impatiently.

Simon drew himself up to his full height. "I know what you're doing is for a good cause, and I'm grateful that you've enlisted my aid-"

"You bleedin well should be grateful," Link growled. "Must be a bit of change to be doing something to help instead of crying your soft little heart over it, innit?"

Simon frowned, as though unsure as to whether he'd just been complimented or insulted. He pressed on regardless. "I have decided," he said, "that after all this is over I need to find out what it is that drives me to the core."

Link turned away with a sigh. "Let us know how you get on with that, eh, mate?"

Simon clasped his shoulder and pulled him back around. "No, you don't understand," he said, his voice taking on a desperate tone. "I need to find out who Simon DeLance actually is."

"I suspect you'll find that he is, in fact, actually Simon DeLance." There was a pause as Simon glared at the Shadow Lord. "Shocking, isn't it?"

"I want to find myself!"

"Ever considered purchasing a mirror?"

Throwing up his hands, Simon gave a snort of disgust. "Oh, why do I bother? I mean, _really_."

Leaning in close, so much so that he could smell the anxiety rolling off of the youngster, Link whispered, "Perhaps if you'd stop viewing the world in terms of yourself – you know, mate, stop thinking about how it relates to you, and rather ponder on how you can relate to it – you'd find that you don't have to find yourself at all, you'd find that you'll see yourself in everyone else, that you'll only find out who you truly are – both the good of you and the bad - when you give yourself to others, rather than expecting them to give themselves to you." He winked. "Try it, mate. Won't be easy. You'll fail more times than you'll succeed – and maybe you'll learn from your slips, and maybe you won't - but it beats moping. Do what _needs_ to be done, mate, not what makes _you_ feel good."

"I hardly think dying is going to make me feel good."

"No, but the notion that you'll be remembered as a martyr must tickle you senseless, right, mate? Always taking the quick route out instead of being the change you want to see in others, aren't you?"

Simon held his gaze with a glare once more, then shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No, I don't suppose you do, do you, mate? Your mind must shut down when someone mentions somebody other than you, eh? I'd wager that when someone bumps you in the street, you convince yourself that they did it deliberately because heaven forbid that the world doesn't spin just for you and that everyone isn't just out to get you, hmm? " Link watched the young man stalk off before he called after him: "And don't try to strangle yourself any cord, you hear?"

Link shook his head. He didn't want to say anything – as he'd grown older he'd become tired of giving the same old story to the hundreds of blighters who all shared the same morbid thoughts as Simon DeLance. He'd learned just to keep it quiet, and to lead by example instead. At least he thought he had, that is. But the poor fellow was getting on his nerves and, though Link knew he probably wouldn't listen, something just had to be said.

Hands on his hips, the Shadow Lord gazed up at the bookcase. This was going to take too long and time was something he didn't have. He wished he still had the Ocarina, but that rather ingenious little device had been lost for decades. He could do nothing now...except trust...trust...

The Shadow Lord felt a tingle in his heart, then reached out and pulled free a yellow, crackling scroll. He smiled as he saw the title: _Ye Olde Mappe of Ye Cunningly Hidden Temple (So Named by Those Rather Barmy in Ye Olde Headd) of the Forest of Kokiri. _

2

The map crinkled as Link stretched it out on the table below the oval window, the others – Navi included – huddling around him. It occurred to him just then that he'd done this very action in the presence of hundreds of different people many times before. Same old story, he supposed.

The raindrops cast a myriad distorted shadows over the faded scroll, the Library illuminated now just by the steady flicker of spitting torches standing atop long stalks of thin marble.

"Navi, love," Link said softly. "Come a little closer."

Lowering herself so that she hovered just above the map, the Fairy's natural light cut through the gloom like a lighthouse in the proverbial dark and stormy night. As if on cue, lightning flashed, suddenly engulfing the entire Library in bright bone-white light.

Link arched an eyebrow. "Did someone mention 'destiny'?"

The ReDead shook his head, almost making it drop off in the process.

"Not I, old chap," Mr Red said.

"What?" said Simon DeLance.

"Never mind," the Shadow Lord replied, smiling. He hunched over the table, peering down at the faded ink below the curling corners of the map. From outside, the rain continued to pound against the building, filling the Library with a distant rhythmic hiss. "Hmm…let's have a gander now." His eyes darted across the length of the parchment, one finger tapping against the side of his chin. "I suppose it would be hidden deep...probably far into what is now a battleground...probably buried deep in – oh, look!"

"What?" the others said in unison.

"The entrance to the Temple – ha! – is under a boulder just after the first ring of trees in Kokiri Forest." Link grinned. "I do wish the designers were still around so that I could congratulate them personally. Ingenious!"

"That's it?" Simon said.

"Well, that's jolly spiffing," Mr Red piped in. "Either way – deep inside or just outside – it would have been a terribly wonderful adventure, what?"

Simon rounded on him. "_What_, what?" he demanded.

Mr Red smiled up at him. "I'm sorry, old chap, is there a problem, what?"

Seething, Simon's eyes bore into Mr Red's face. "_Why_ do you keep saying 'what'?"

"Do I, what?" Mr Red replied. "Awfully remiss of me."

Link held up a hand. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice calm. "Let's keep it cool now." He glanced at both of them, then went on: "I brought you both for a reason. Normally I'd undertake this kind of enterprise all on my lonesome – and Navi, of course – but I just don't have the time, mates. Though after meeting you both, I'm not entirely sure what you did to warrant such fulsome reputations, you two can apparently navigate this Temple – laugh? look at me, I'm almost choking – far far more speedily than I can." He looked up. "Mr Red – no doubt, regardless of the twisted sense of what may pass as humour belonging to these designers, no doubt the whole place is more booby-trapped than Tingle guarding his chest of underwear. You, my friend, are going to snap this trap – innit?"

Mr Red stood up straight, puffing out his chest and giving off a short salute. "Happy to serve, sir," he said, giving a wary glance in Navi's direction. "And a frightfully splendid time I'll have doing it, too."

The Shadow Lord grinned. "That's the spirit, mate." A thought came to him. "I'm also under the impression that your knowledge of Fairy culture is quite extensive, is it not?"

Mr Red fired off another short salute. "Sah! True, as you say, old chap."

"I won't ask how you become enamoured in that particular diversion; I'll just thank you to share the relevant information when necessary." Link swivelled on his heels. "Young Mr DeLance – unfortunately, the precise location of the Fairy Treasure of the Ancients is not marked on this here map. You, my misguided and somewhat self-destructive friend, are going to find this treasure for me. Get it? Got it? Good."

Simon rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway.

"By the way," Link added. "How is it that you didn't become fabulously wealthy via this particular skill of yours?"

Clearing his throat noisily, Simon gazed sheepishly at the floor and mumbled something.

The Shadow Lord craned his neck. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"I _said_," Simon replied, his jaw set. "That every time I was hired for this kind of job, I'd find the treasure, despair of the materialistic shallowness of my employers and in my attempt to off myself, I'd find that those very same employers had run off with the said treasure." He managed to look suitably abashed. "I mean, the sheer inconsideration of these people!"

"Heartbreaking, I'm sure," Link replied, his voice sour. "After all this is over, you'll both be rewarded handsomely, I promise you that as the supreme ruler of Castleton." His eyes found Simon's. "Just _try_ not to kill yourself until then-"

"What about me?" the ReDead cut in. "What am I going to do?"

Link opened his mouth, frowned, snapped it shut, thought about it, opened it again, thought some more, and frowned. "Well..." he said.

"Hey!" Navi said, back to her usual self and spinning around and around in the air. "He can be our muscle!"

"That's it!" the Shadow Lord cried. "Our muscle! Nice one, love."

Grinning some more, Link winked, then gave the ReDead a friendly slap on the arm. It promptly fell off. They all looked down, gazing at the dismembered limb.

There was a heartbeat of silence.

And another.

Somewhere outside, an owl hooted. Somewhere inside, parchments rustled.

"He could use it as a club," Mr Red said finally.

"A club! That's it! Yes!" Link cried, grinning once more. "_Ex_cellent idea!" He let out a breath that he didn't realise he was holding in. "Now if you'd all just prepare yourselves-"

"I say, old chap," Mr Red said, cutting in with an amenable smile. "As much as it would be a whole bucketload of laughs, I don't think we can go out in this dark."

Simon nodded, lazily flicking a silver strand of hair from his eyes. "For once, I agree."

Link stared out of the window, saw the heavy blanket of darkness penned in with swirling angry clouds, and knew that they were right. His face blank, he let his fingers curl around the crystal once more. "Sunrise, then," he said, his voice soft and small. "As soon as dawn cracks, we're on our way."


	5. Pumpkinheads, Potions & Parties

**5 – Pumpkinheads, Potions & Parties**

Candlestick in one hand, tears of hot melted wax pooling beside her fingers, Ruto ran down the winding staircase of Hyrule Castle, her other hand trailing the dust-coated banister. She reached the landing and strode across, slanted moonlight peering in through the windows illuminating her path. She stopped short in front of the main guest chamber, hesitated, then pushed the large double doors open with a creak.

Myriad eyes, haggard and fraught with tension as they were, looked up as she entered. She could see the accusations in their faces, could almost feel the desperate sense of hope and rage that lay behind their tight expressions. Ruto ignored them all, walking onwards, the candle flame flickering as she tried to keep her footfalls soft. Not that it mattered how much noise she made. The children here, surrounded by anxious relatives, were not going to wake. She could hear their breathing in the hushed, almost oppressive silence. Rising and falling, rising and falling, rising and falling...

Ruto's eyes widened as she reached Zelda's bed. She could hear the mutterings of the other people as she pulled out a stool and sat herself down – some of them, the Zora knew, blamed the Shadow Lord himself. After all, what kind of husband was this man? Probably one with a volatile temper, or one who showed little to no affection to his beleaguered wife. The poor Princess! It wouldn't be surprising, they said, if either the Hero of Time or the Princess herself had brought on this illness just to be free of the other and, tragically, the children had fallen with her. Ruto, despite the indignation it caused her, knew what the people were saying and ignored them. She knew that Link and Zelda didn't care what others thought of their marriage – indeed they considered it no-one else's business but their own.

A torch crackled over the bed, weaving a pattern of swaying light over the Princess' thin face. And she _did_ look thin, Ruto realised, unnaturally so. Her hair dull, her skin pale like it had been drained of blood, and her body almost skeletal, Zelda lay motionless with her eyes tight shut, looking desperately fragile, as though she would crumble under the tiniest breath from the wind. The unsightly scar that she'd received five years previous rose and fell as she breathed. Ruto knitted her fingers around the Princess', watching as Tingle busied himself as bedside, fussing away.

"Any change?" Ruto asked, looking up.

"None whatsoever, milady," Tingle replied, pressing a damp cloth to the Princess' brow.

"And we still don't know what – or who –caused this?"

Tingle didn't reply, choosing only to give a non-committal shrug.

"Here, give me that," the Zora said, taking the cloth from his hand. "You go get some rest."

"Very good, milady."

As Tingle shuffled off, Ruto gazed down at the Princess, wondering exactly what was going on in Zelda's mind right now.

2

Princess Zelda felt herself drowning in darkness, felt a suffocating sense of emptiness coil its way around her and then tighten with a jolt. Panic rose within her like a wave, the inkiness from without seeping in, tarring every last inch of her heart and soul. Memories and words rushed around her head – light, love, friends, sun; she was sure they each had a meaning, was sure because her heart tingled with recognition at each one, but for the life of her she couldn't remember exactly what those meanings were. It just seemed inconceivable that there existed anything except her raw soul laid bare and this deep, churning darkness. Had she really experienced anything other than this gloom, or had she merely imagined it?

The darkness spoke to her. _"Come to my embrace, little one. Let yourself fall into my arms._" The voice reminded her of icicles – icicles, what were those? – scraping across a frozen mist-enshrouded lake. "_There's nothing else to do but fall in."_

"Who are you?" she breathed.

"_I love you," _the voice replied. "_You will find no other love, no other sweet caress, except through me._"

And she was tempted. She was sorely tempted, so much so that her lips almost formed the word 'yes.' The voice offered her no warmth, no comfort, but it seemed real – the only thing that _was _real - and it seemed like an escape. She opened her mouth to reply –

And then the world bloomed to life – all colour and noise and _life_ – like the opening of a rose at spring's first light. She found herself standing on the rise of a hill, yellow flowers swaying by her feet, and peered down at a vast lake of rippling crimson liquid that glistened as the sun beat down on it. She remembered this...it was a man-made lake; a reservoir to store Red Potion – but hadn't it dried up years and years ago? Zelda looked down at herself and almost gasped in shock. She was _small. _She was _young. _And, then, like a puppet tugged on a string, the memory took over...

"What are you doing?" the little Princess said, her lips pursed primly.

Little Link let out an exasperated sigh as he rummaged about on the ground, planks of wood and bars of metal littered at his feet. "Stop poking me, will you?"

Zelda jabbed a chubby finger into Link's arm. "But what are you _doing?_"

Link stood up straight. "I," the Hero of Time said, "am making a whistle. A special whistle that only I can hear."

Zelda put a hand over her brow to protect her eyes from the glaring sun. "_Why?_"

"It's for you," he replied. "So that when you get into trouble, you can call me quickly."

The Princess felt an odd sensation in her stomach, as though her insides were light and fluttering, and felt her cheeks burn. She didn't like the feeling – or did she? For some reason she wanted to hug the Hero, but she wasn't going to let _him_ know that. "I don't need you to help me, you...you...you pumpkinhead!"

Link reeled, shock blossoming on his face. "How _dare_ you!" he cried, drawing his sword. He waved it about wildly. "Take that back or I'll punctuate you!"

"_Puncture._" Little Zelda stood still, her back regally stiff, one hand on her hip, one eyebrow raised, one foot tapping, and looking very very unimpressed. "Anyway, you won't hurt me."

Link scowled, waving his blade some more. After a moment, he lowered the weapon. "How do you know I won't hurt you?"

"Because!" the Princess replied, not exactly sure why herself.

"Because?" Link replied, bewildered.

"_Because!"_

"Because what!"

"Because you're a pumpkinhead, that's why!"

Faced with this unbreachable wall of pure logic, the pint-sized Hero of Time could do nothing but relent, scowling all the while. Zelda sidled up to him, grinning as she pulled a thin strip of black of cloth from her pocket. Link eyed the said item suspiciously. "What's that for?"

"We're going to play a game...I'm going tooooooo... blindfold you!" And before he could protest, the Princess had already wrapped the cloth around his eyes and tied it tight.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Link shouted, stumbling as he flung his hands out. "Geroffme!"

Zelda grinned some more, clearly pleased with her accomplishment. "Now _I _am going to go and hide, and _you-"_

She looked up quickly as a twig snapped somewhere nearby. Gasping, she took a step back as a dark shadowy shape peeled itself off of the ground, its face indistinct except for two rows of grinning needle-like teeth.

"What's happening?" Link cried, grasping at thin air. "What's happening?"

Slowly the shadow creature turned to the Hero, then raised its darkly transparent arms, claws springing free from where its hands should have been. Without even a moment's hesitation, the Princess leapt in front of Link, one arm flung out protectively, and glared at the creature. "Go a_way_!"

"_My love..._" the shadow creature said, "_Embrace me and fall in.._"

Somewhere, an older, wiser Princess Zelda frowned – this wasn't how this particular memory went, she mused. The creature hadn't said those words at all.

The little Princess spun around, her skirt swirling around her legs, then pulled Link's sword free from his hands, turned around and, with all her strength, flung it straight at the creature. It hit home, and the creature howled as it sank to the ground, melting back into the earth, then vanishing in a puff of curling purple smoke.

Zelda fell to her knees, breathing wildly. It was then that she began to tremble, hot salty tears stinging her eyes. It was only then that she realised how terrified she'd been. She sniffled, wiping her nose and eyes with her sleeve and trying desperately not to cry.

There was a yell from behind her. Then a splash. Zelda's head snapped up. "Link!"

She turned around. Link wasn't there.

She ran over the top of the hill and peered down. She gasped.

Her heart drumming in time to the thump of her feet on the ground, Zelda rushed down to the lake's edge. "Link?"

Lying flat on his back with arms and legs outstretched, the blindfold now lost, the Hero of Time bobbed up and down on the lake's surface, a strange dreamlike expression on his smiling face. "Ohhhhh... " he slurred, " thaaaaat tassstess goood." He burped for added effect.

Zelda folded her arms, frowning, the liquid lapping gently at her feet. "Get out of the water, Link."

"I can shee a _pink _Ganon floating in the air from here."

The Princess pursed her lips. "You can't see a pink Ganon, Link."

The Hero of Time shook his head. "I'm shertain I can. Look! He's wearing a dressh!"

"Ganon is not wearing a dress, Link."

"Ish!"

"Isn't!"

"Ish!"

Zelda balled her hands into fists. "You can't get...get...get-" what was the word? Oh, yes –"get _drunk _on Red Potion, you pumpkinhead!"

Link raised his head, staring at her quizzically. "You look like a mushroom," he said with a cast-iron sense of finality. He gave a small wave. "Ello, Prinshesh Toadshtool."

Closing her eyes, the little Princess shook her head in mock-despair.

"I was so scared!" Zelda said later that night, sitting beside the hearth as her mother stoked the raspy fire with a poker. "But I still did it! I jumped in front of Link so the _thing_ couldn't get him!"

Her mother, a tall, thin woman with an angular, almost crystalline face gave a short smile. "Well," she said. "I'm angry with you and pleased with you."

Zelda, hugging her legs as the fire warmed her face, waited for her mother to continue, chewing her lower lip all the while.

"I'm angry that you went to play without telling Impa where you were going." She stabbed the fire some more, flecks of ash ghosting up into the air, then turned to look at her daughter with another smile. "But I'm very very pleased with your bravery." Her eyes seemed to go distant for a moment, the glow of the fire reflected therein. "We all wish for a friend that would truly define the word friendship for us. We all wish for someone to be so selflessly attached to us. And yet we forget that if we want a friend like that, we should first _be_ a friend like that."

The little Princess frowned as she tucked one stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I don't understand."

Her mother stood, smoothed down her dress, then favoured Zelda with another warm smile. "I know you don't, darling. You didn't even think about it, you just did it."

"I _still_ don't understand." Something in the air shifted, and when the Princess looked down at herself she found that she was suddenly older – about fifteen – and standing in the Palace courtyard, a stuffed effigy swinging from gallows in front of her. The memory flooded back...

"_What_ don't you understand?" Link growled, hands on his hips. His voice echoed around the courtyard, rising to where, far above on the ramparts, oily-black birds cawed as they watched the scene unfold under a grey sky pregnant with rain.

The young Princess had to bite down the irritation she felt at the Hero's gruff manner. It's not his fault, she reminded herself as the cold breeze picked up, flicking at her hair. It had been years since the incident with the memory charm and he'd virtually become a different person since then. He'd hidden himself away in that time – 'studying' he said – and only came to the Palace now and then to train others in swordplay.

"I don't understand why I have to stab the thing so hard," she said, poking the effigy with her wooden blade. It spun slowly under the touch, squeaking, a like a ball of thread unwinding. "I mean, if it were real, it would have died!"

Link gave a snort of frustration as he rolled his eyes. "That's the whole point, love!" Zelda winced at the term, trying to still her anger. "What would _you_ have us do on the battlefield? Stop to have a quick chat? Have some tea and a plate of biscuits?"

"No, I'd...I'd-"

"What?"

The conversation was cut off by the sound of hooves ringing through the air. The Princess spun around – and gasped, her hand touching her chest. Prince Loreth of the tiny republic of Sheshen gazed down at her from his horse, his flowing black hair framing a chiselled and handsome face. He held out a hand. "Princess?"

She knew what this was about. She knew what he was going to ask. But she still couldn't stop her heart from fluttering widly. "Yes?" She didn't take his hand – out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother gazing down from a window, no doubt playing both chaperone and observing to see if the Princess kept her propriety.

The Prince smiled. "Fair lady," he said, almost making Zelda gasp. "I see you are well; it gladdens my heart." Pausing so that she could nod a confirmation, he went on, "I realise this may be a little forward but..." He cleared his throat, and in that moment Zelda felt her heart leap again. "...I wonder if you'd do me the honour of accompanying me to tonight's festivity?" He glanced over at Link, then looked back to the Princess. "That is, if you've not already made a prior engagement?"

"No...I mean, yes..." _Pumpkinhead! _she chided herself inwardly. _Get a hold of yourself!_ "No, I haven't made a prior engagement, and _yes_ I'd love to go with you."

The Prince smiled a dazzling smile. "Then..._come and embrace the darkness. Let yourself fall in._"

"What?" Zelda said, blinking as she snapped back to the memory.

"Then...take this rose as a token of my affection." Zelda took a sharp intake of breath as the Prince gently pushed the sweet-scented flower, all scarlet petals and emerald stem, into her hand. He bowed his head. "Until tonight, fair one." With a tug of the reins, the Prince's horse trotted away.

Zelda sighed deeply, grinning as she pushed the flower against her skin, then spun around – to see Link glaring at her, an odd expression dancing on his face.

"I thought you weren't going with anyone," he said.

"I have to go with someone," she explained, "the whole point of the gathering is for young couples to meet under their parent's eyes with the intention of marriage. _You_ know that." And, of course, her earlier foolish 'marriage' to the Hero would have to be annulled, especially if she was matched to someone who would bring fortune to the Kingdom. "_I_, of course," she said, trying to sound haughty, "am the most desired of all the girls going tonight."

Link ignored the jibe. "So, you're going with _him_, then?"

Suddenly tiring of the Hero's constant criticisms, the Princess felt her shoulders sag, a heaviness falling upon her eyes, "I don't see what it has to do with you."

Link folded his arms across his chest. "So, you're going with _him_, then?"

"So what if I am?" Zelda felt her eyes blaze, felt the curious mixture of hope and sheer hatred she felt whenever she was in Link's presence. And beneath it all were her memories. Memories of a friendship long dead.

"Just like a fairy-tale, is it?" the Hero asked, breaking into her thoughts. "You'll be all dressed up in your elaborate and probably pathetic gown just to make you look a little more than ordinary while your Prince – he'll straight from one of those dreamy slush songs the minstrels crow about, won't he?" She couldn't understand his anger and inwardly she suspected that neither could he. Link went on, "You know what's wrong with those particular type of fairy-tales?"

The Princess felt her cheek twitch. "Pray tell."

The Hero of Time took a deep breath. "The misguided individuals who inscribe those things know fully well the notions their fancy tales of daring-do put into pretty little heads – the notion that all _they_ have to do is look a tad comely and pretend to be _nice_-" he said the last with a grimace "- and all the wenches will fall at their feet, thinking their prince has finally come because they're under the erroneous notion that their heart tells them what's right. But it doesn't!" Zelda almost jumped at the sudden spike of heat in his voice. "Our hearts, unless they've tamed and purged of our petty little egos, only tell us what _we_ want at the expense of everybody else."

The Princess felt her mind whirl. Slowly she said, "True as that may be, but not if we use our heads instead. After all, am I not the Princess of Wisdom?"

"Our heads?" Link said, clearly not finished. "If you want to see everything in a cool, calculating, _detached_ way, maybe. But if we use our heads and hearts _together_ – _that_'s when we can make a meal of this little thing we call life. Our poor pretty little wenches, on the other hand, after they've served their purpose to said misguided individuals find themselves lonely, bitter and thinking there's no such thing as love, because – since they didn't use both heart and head – they always, unless they're very lucky, over and over again picked the _wrong_ person."

Zelda blinked, reeling as though she'd been physically slapped. "And you're the expert, are you?" His words had bemused, befuddled and enraged her all at the same time. "Are you?"

"I like to think I've thought things over a little, yes."

"You're just fifteen, Link!" she snapped. She knew their words were carrying in the air, knew the sly glances that were appearing at the windows. "You're not supposed to be thinking so...so...so _deeply_ over such matters!"

Link grinned a grin that would become commonplace on his face in the years to come. "If not now, then when?" he said. "Besides," he added, changing track, "he's _wrong_ for you."

There was desperation dancing in his eyes, but for the life of her, the Princess couldn't figure out why. "Wrong?" she said. "Why is he wrong?"

"Because!"

"Because, what!"

"_Because!_"

Zelda let out a breath. "I'm not a child anymore and I won't play this game." With one final glare, she turned on her heels. "Good _day_ to you, Link."

Later that night, dressed in an elaborate and almost tent like gown, Zelda sat at the main banquet table, picking at her food, the sounds of jubilant merrymaking swimming through the air. A crystal jug of water stood on the table before her, and all she wanted to do was to take the whole thing in her hands and drink it all down in one gulp. She certainly wasn't hungry, but her throat burned and burned. She couldn't, of course. It'd be scandalous. The Prince sat beside her, smiling amiably as he chatted away. At first she'd been flattered by all his compliments and honey-coated words, but after a while he began to become tiresome. He was, she realised, a frightful bore when he had to talk about something other than her. Not only that, but he kept making surreptitious glances at his mother, who responded by giving him encouraging nods. This was, Zelda mused, turning out to be quite the disaster. Not that she'd ever admit that to Link.

The Prince's voice fading into a background hum, Zelda scanned the hall, her eyes looking past all the well-dressed and stiff-necked guests until she finally found –

She felt a strange – and inexplicable – twinge in her heart as she spotted the Hero of Time lounging against a wall, laughing easily in the midst of carefree – and no doubt, enthralling – conversation. She stared at him, willing him to look up, to turn towards her to – and then he did. The barest flicker of a glance, smouldering with some deep emotion, in her direction. Rage, probably. Or hatred. Or maybe a smug satisfaction at seeing her so completely and utterly bored. No doubt he was laughing at her; laughing at her predicament, laughing at her beautiful clothes, laughing, laughing, laughing. She hated him.

And then the Princess' heart lurched – though why it did so, she couldn't quite say - as Link's partner slipped into view. "Malon!" Zelda said, her mouth dropping open. "He came with Malon!"

"What?" the Prince asked, dazed. "Melon? You want some melon?" He clapped his hands, motioning to one of the serving boys. "Here! Melon for the Princess!"

Zelda desperately tried not to roll her eyes. She saw her mother looking at her with a disapproving scowl. She saw her maids huddled in one corner, casting glances in her direction and giggling. She saw Link look at her one last time, that odd light in his eyes. Biting down on her lip, Zelda had had enough. She lurched to her feet, her knee banging painfully against the table, and knocked the jug over, ice-cold water spilling all over her expensive dress. The hall fell silent as all eyes turned to her. Her cheeks burning, tears in her eyes, Zelda sank into her chair and gazed stubbornly at the floor. And that's the way she stayed, no matter how many times both her mother and the Prince tried to snap her out of it. All she did was listen to the steady thump thump thump of her heart.

It was well past midnight when the Princess trudged up the stairs to her bedchamber, her body racked with fatigue, her heart nothing more than a slab of lead. Lifting the hem of her dress so that it wouldn't gather dust, Zelda slowly made her way up, inwardly cursing those very same 'fairy-tales' that the Hero of Time had so eloquently critiqued earlier in the day. She stopped short. There was the sound of a bolt being pulled back and she looked up, curious, as a door to one of the guest chambers opened. Link stood framed in the open doorway, light spilling out from behind him. "I just wanted to say-"

"I know what you want to say," Zelda spat, her chest heaving with rage. A bitter surge of acid fury burned through her. She was sick of them all. Her mother, the Prince, and most of all, the Hero of Time. "Something sage and stupidly stupidly intelligent, no doubt. Something to make me feel even more of...of...of a pumpkinhead!" She almost wilted in shame – how long had it been since she'd used _that_ particular word out loud?

Link was strangely calm as he listened to her onslaught, a soft glow in his eyes. "No, I wanted-"

"Oh, I know," Zelda cut in. "You wanted to tell me how, if it was good for the Kingdom, I should marry the Prince, no matter how much he was _wrong_ for me."

"Well, yes," the Hero said softly. "Personal sacrifice to help others is always worthy." _Too young, _Zelda thought to herself, _he's too young to be talking like that._ She held his gaze as an uncertain smile flickered on his lips. "But that's not what I wanted to say."

"Well?" the Princess snarled. Behind her she could hear her chambermaids rushing up, wanting to see why she sounded so distressed. "What is it? Spit it out!"

The shadows rippled around her. "_There is only comfort for you through me...embrace me...escape into the night."_ Zelda didn't hear, neither did Link. The only person that did was the older, wiser Princess, watching the memory as a disembodied observer.

"I just wanted to say," Link said, somehow not managing to meet her eyes, "that you look beautiful tonight."

And with that he closed the door in a rush, leaving a young and very confused Princess speechless on the stairs.

The shadows grew. "_Embrace me!" _The voice was insistent, pleading. "_Give into the temptation and flee! Love! I offer you love! LET GO AND FALL IN!"_

"No, not yet," the older Zelda whispered, her voice soft and quiet. "Not just yet."


	6. Ambush in the Bush

**6 – Ambush in the Bush**

They stood on the very edge of Kokiri Forest, the Shadow Lord with his cloak wrapped around him like a shroud, Mr Red and Simon DeLance standing on either side, the ReDead behind, Navi buzzing happily overhead, and watched the tips of the swaying trees glow crimson as the dawn sun crept over the horizon. Behind them lay the guardpost where they had to present their permit – thankfully, there had been no difficulties in that regard – and even further back was the faint silhouette of Mountbasten, the dragons no more than glistening strands in the violet sky.

Link cleared his throat. "Nice to be back home again," he said.

Mr Red looked around, his round face beaming. "Used to live here, did you, old chap?" he said, cheerful as always. "Lovely scenery, I must say."

"I grew up here, mate," the Shadow Lord replied, his face solemn. "Which, I hasten to add, is far more than the average denizen of this forest can aspire to, and that's a fact." He glanced at his companions, his affable smile in place once again. "Gentlemen, let's begin." He let out a breath. "Oh, and watch out for the monkeys."

Simon started, fixing Link with an incredulous stare. "Monkeys?" he gaped. "Why would there be monkeys in a forest?"

"Oh, come now, old chap," Mr Red piped in. "A monkey in the forest is worth two in the oven, that's always been my motto, what?"

There was silence. Somewhere, a leaf silently snapped off a twig heavy with last night's rain and spun slowly to the ground, buffeted this way and that like a small boat on a rough sea. Small animals watched the newcomers warily, their reflected eyes peeking out here and there before dismissing the interlopers and darting back into the undergrowth.

Ever-so-slowly, Link turned to face Mr Red. "What," the Shadow Lord said, "kind of fool motto is that?"

For a moment Mr Red was actually at a loss for words before Simon, in a fit of uncharacteristic consideration, came to his rescue. "So, Red," he asked as the group moved off. "What's your first name?"

"Mister," the smiling replied, unabashed.

Simon blinked. "Mister?"

"Yes."

"Your parents named you 'Mister'?"

"Why, yes, old chap," Mr Red replied, gazing around the forest in wonder. "Why, didn't yours?"

Simon opened his mouth to reply, then after realising he had no response to that, snapped it shut. Eventually, he went with: "So, how long have you known Mr ...um...Link?"

Red grinned. "Oh, we go way back, what?" He rubbed his hands, as though cold. "Though not always in the most pleasant of circumstances. But all water under the bridge now, eh, what what?"

As if on cue the group came upon a long reed bridge, held together with nothing but knotted rope and swaying gently above a gushing stream that frothed and bubbled against the rocks beneath. Gingerly they walked across, Simon grimacing as the structure creaked under their steps, Mr Red looking like he was having the time of his life. The younger man peered over the edge, a sudden notion shooting from his heart to his mind.

"Don't even think about it, Mr DeLance," the Shadow Lord called, without even turning around.

Sighing, Simon made a face, but made his way safely across, Link and Mr Red in front of him, the ReDead just behind. The air was sharp with the tang of wet earth, and with the sun now warming their faces and stalks of grass snapping under their boots, even Simon had to admit that the forest really was a pleasant place. A steady beat of natural music, a song of chirps and hisses, punctuated here and there by a howl or a hoot, thrummed in their ears. Birds glided overhead, landing on trembling trees that shed a load of collected rainwater splattering to the ground, darted their heads this way and that, then flew off in a blurred flutter of wings.

Link, his eyes narrowed, scanned the horizon, his head moving slowly – then coming to a stop as his gaze set upon a lone moss-covered boulder. "Gentleman, I believe that's-" He stopped short, his entire body tensing.

"What?" Simon asked, giving the Shadow Lord a nervous glance. "What is it?"

Link raised a hand slowly, his fingers waggling, then: "Move!"

There was a rustle of leaves, then a shatter of twigs. Simon, dragging Mr Red and the ReDead along with him, dived to the ground, soil powdering up into his face, and saw a dark blur drop from the trees. He didn't have time to make out what it was, but he heard the _twang_ of a bowstring snapping taut, filling the hollowness in his chest with fear. He flicked his head up to see Link crouching, one hand curling around the hilt of his sword. The arrow flew with a whispered kiss, and in that frozen blink of time, the Shadow Lord flipped backwards, unsheathing his sword mid-air, and landed on a mis-shaped stump soggy with rain. The arrowhead billowed into the ground harmlessly, but the dark shape – Simon was sure he could make out a bronze tan to its skin – leapt, bounding closer and closer to the Shadow Lord of Castleton.

Link, grin in place, held his ground and, at the very last moment with Simon looking on, heart in his mouth, the Shadow Lord sliced the air with a graceful arc, the tip of his sword flashing, as though it were a diamond of captured emerald coated sunlight. The blade stuck the bowstring with a tight snap, smashing the weapon in a rain of splinters. Link, as though smoothly going through a practised motion that he'd done a million times in the past, dived, rolled, kipped-up, then spun on his heel, plunging his sword straight through the back of the-

"Puppet?" the Shadow Lord said, frowning as his eyes studied the sagging remains of the wooden 'man'.

"Hey!" Navi, hiding herself in Link's hat from the first moment of the attack, popped out. "It's no puppet!" She buzzed in the air, excited. "Well, it _is_ – it's coated with Fairy Dust, that means it's controlled by- she yelped as she narrowly dodged a log sent hurtling through the air just at that very moment. The Shadow Lord wasn't so lucky. It struck him on the side of the head and he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

The silence was deafening. Slowly Simon, the ReDead and Mr Red got to their feet. "My word," Red said, brushing the soil from his clothes, "What did I miss?"

"Link?" Navi called, her voice forlorn and lost as she floated over the fallen Shadow Lord. "Link? Wake up!"

Then it happened – like a million multi-coloured eyes opening at once, the Fairies appeared, filling the forest with their incandescent glow. Simon swallowed when he realised that each one, as small as they were, carried a tiny bow with a quiver peeking out from behind their sparkling heads. One hit from one of those arrows would probably be nothing more than a scratch – but a thousand upon a thousand of them? Simon, suddenly hugging the stranger known as self-preservation, didn't want to find out. If he was going to die, it would be on his own terms.

Mr Red's eyes widened as he saw what was facing them. "Alright, chaps," he said quietly, flicking a glance at Simon and the ReDead. "Stay calm."

"I don't think they can hurt me, Mr Red," the ReDead said, looking point-blank at the Fairies without even a flinch of fear. "I think I can take them."

"But, old chap," Mr Red reasoned, "will you be able to stay in one piece?"

The ReDead was about to shrug, then though better of it, realising he didn't want his arm dropping off at such an inopportune moment.

Mr Red stepped forward, his demeanour expressing the fact that he was in charge. Simon was amazed at the man's sheer brazen guts – or was it his completely insane stupidity?

"Chaps," Mr Red went on, his voice commanding. "They won't do anything to hurt us so long as we don't make any sudden movements. Don't provoke them and don't do or say anything that might be interpreted as disrespect, what?"

The Fairies stared at the small group. The small group stared at the Fairies. A twig snapped. A squirrel scurried into its hole. A bird sang.

With a pain-drenched moan the Shadow Lord of Castleton stood up, stumbling as he tried to steady himself. Simon, his jaw set with fear, desperately tried to pass on Mr Red's instructions with just his eyes. Link, completely oblivious, pushed his hat out of his eyes and groggily looked up. He froze as he saw the Fairies. His jaw dropped open. "Well, slap me sideways with a bent ocarina."

Simon closed his eyes slowly, groaning.

The Fairies released their arrows. Sheer chaos followed as the air was filled with both the screams of the Shadow Lord's crew and tiny spinning projectiles of death. A tree exploded in a Fairy Dust-drenched puff of splinters as the arrows hit home, the tiny shards of wood cutting into Simon's tunic and skin. Navi spun overhead, her little face aghast, screaming, "Hey! HEY!"

Link chopped the air with his spinning blade, desperately trying to deflect as many of the arrows as possible. "You insane little buggers!" he cried. "I'll swat you all!"

A rumble shook the forest, snapping branches and making the woodland animals scatter, shrieking. Glancing over his shoulder, the Shadow Lord saw another phalanx of glowing orbs wink into existence, all armed to the teeth. Dimly, he was aware of Navi shouting above, "The Service Fairies! The Service Fairies are here!" Out of the corner of his eye, Link saw the ReDead staggering about, a million tiny arrows jutting out from his torso. He had no idea where Red and Simon were, and at this particular point in time he couldn't care less. Hitting the dirt Link covered his head and closed his eyes.

The battle was now joined as the two Fairy forces turned their attention to the other. The morning sky darkened with a hail of miniature enchanted arrows flying across the woodland. Trees exploded, cries of pain rang out and, occasionally, a dead bird dropped from the branches. An expanding cloud of dust and splinters choked the air, smudged only the dim glow of fairy light, sometimes crimson, sometimes emerald, but mostly just a dirty white.

Navi screamed and shot straight upwards, clutching her head as she sought to escape the madness. "Noooo..." she moaned, her heart bursting not just because she'd lost sight of Link and the others, but because, though she'd heard rumours, seeing the sheer horror of her people fighting each other was just too much for her to bear. Tears, blackened by the burnt remains of fairy dust clinging to the air, ran down her face. There was a spark as something collided into her, making her drop into a spin. Steadying herself, she looked up angrily. "Hey!"

"Hey, yourself," came the reply, another Fairy, Navi realised. "Just get out of our way and you won't get-" The words seem to die in the Fairy's throat. Tendrils of black smoke - Fairy Dust was quite the explosive - curled across the sky, obscuring her face, but Navi could tell that she was being stared at intently. "Navi?"

A shock of recognition jolted Navi to her senses and, her heart thudding, she flew in closer. "Hawthorne?"

"Oh, no!" the Hair Fairy replied, her face pale. She pulled a horn from a sack hanging from her waist, then lifted it to her lips. "HEY!" she screamed. "_Stop! STOP!"_

2

His sword was so polished, Link mused as he sat on a stump, that he could see the reflection of the forest in the flat of the blade. It distracted him from what was going on around him – his fellow travellers were sitting beside him, Mr Red and Simon picking at the tears in their tunics, the ReDead still pulling arrows free from his chest, watching the two small groups of Fairies glare at each other under the sparkle of the mid-morning sun.

The Fairies wearing stern expressions above their robes were, Link had come to discover, known as 'the Righteous Keepers of the Flame.' The other group – the Service Fairies – had a different, less than noble name for them. He saw Navi mingling with the Service Fairies, her face beaming, but the lines around her tiny eyes tight with worry. The one named Hawthorne walked with her, holding her tightly by the hand.

One of the senior Fairies of the Righteous Keepers stepped forward, clearing his throat, indicating (and probably used to) an order for silence. This one was the leader, and he was known, simply, _as_ The Leader ('no imagination, that man,' the Shadow Lord thought to himself).

"It would appear," the Leader said, his voice grave. "That _this _particular attack on _this _particular occasion was not initiated by yourselves. We assumed that the intruders," he inclined his head towards Link and company, "were your wrongdoing agents, spying on our ever-so-humble activities."

As he spoke, one of the Service Fairies, a frown of curiosity lining his face, hovered up to Link's head. It gazed up at the mountain of a green hat looming over him, his mouth open wide, then, after a moment's hesitation, he tentatively reached out with a hand to touch-

The Shadow Lord glared. "You come one inch closer to the hat, mate, and I'll pull off your wings one by one and then feed you to a rabid cucco." Duly alarmed, the Fairy darted away, hiding himself behind an irritated Hawthorne.

"We, of course," the Leader went on, "will be expecting a full apology from whatever passes for leadership in your neck of the woods."

A hiss of protest rose from the huddled mass of the Service Fairies. "We're not apologising to you!" one shouted. "We weren't spying," another added, "and even if were, it'd only be to find out where you've hidden the Treasure of the Ancients!"

The Leader rolled his eyes. "Come now, let's not resort to this deluded fiction that _we_ are in possession of the Treasure, when it is clear that it is _you _who have it." His eyes seemed to spark. "And, not only do you have it, you are well aware that it relates to us our true destiny-" everyone save the Shadow Lord jumped as a brief flash of lightning surprised the sunlit sky "- as the Chosen Ones of Hyrule."

"The _only_ thing it says," Hawthorne retorted, her tiny face contorted with rage, "is that we Fairies can choose one our own way to live, to _be,_no doubt, and we have chosen that we are going to serve others! And I'm sure it's one of _you _that hasthe Treasuresomewhere!"

Shaking his head with a sigh, the Leader said, "Yet another fiction – a slanderous one at that. How long must we keep up this charade? Perhaps until the day when you all lie broken and defeated at my feet, hmm?"

"Not likely!" Hawthorne spat, her hands on her hips.

Link watched the exchange in fascination, his eyes darting from the Leader to Hawthorne and back again. He raised his hand. "Excuse me," he said. "Mates, loves – if I could be just bold enough to make a tiny suggestion?"

The Leader, the corner of his mouth curling up in disgust, turned to regard the Shadow Lord. "Yes?" he said, his voice like ice. "Does the wrongdoing oaf have something to contribute?"

Link didn't rise to the taunt, choosing instead to smile. "Well, it seems to me-"

A low buzzing cut him off, a fat, gold-drenched Fairy hovering into view. "Quit your yapping, fool!" Mr C snapped. He turned to the Leader. "Is this sucka bothering you, boss?"

The Leader held up a hand. "Mr C, I appreciate your concern, but I don't think-"

But Mr C couldn't be stopped. He flew up to the Shadow Lord's face, tiny fists at the ready. "You want some, do you? You want some, sucka?"

Link raised a bemused eyebrow.

"Come on then, fool!" Mr C growled. "You want some? Do ya? Do ya? Just because you're a hundred times bigger than me doesn't mean you can't get some!"

With a lazy flick of his finger, the Shadow Lord sent the Fairy of Love hurtling back across the woodland. Link could have sworn he heard Hawthorne snickering under her breath.

"Hel-_lo!_" All eyes turned to the Shadow Lord. "If I could just have your attention for a moment? My name's Link-" A bird squawked, momentarily drowning out his voice "-Shadow Lord of Castleton. Now, as I was saying, it seems that the solution to your little dilemma is that you dig up this quaint little treasure of yours - no doubt, written in gold upon a richly embellished crystal goblet or some such other fancy and wholly wasteful conceit – and then read what it says. Now, it just so happens that I know where the Treasure of the Ancients is" – he held up the map but not long enough for anyone to get more than a cursory glance – "and I'm willing to find it and hand it over to your good selves."

The Leader gave him a withering look of disbelief. "I beg your pardon, but I do not believe we need to take advice from one such as yourself."

"That's a neat trick, mate," Link replied, smiling. "Polite and condescending all in one. You should give classes on that, you know."

A humourless smile touched the Leader's lips. "Let me explain so that even you can understand." He paused to make sure everyone was paying attention. "We Fairies, we have a Higher Purpose, Higher Ideals. I don't believe you would understand those ideals yourself – no offence intended, of course – and I think you should just let us take recourse in those ideals and make our minds up as to what should be done."

"Oh, I'm all for having a 'higher purpose' and whatnot, mate," the Shadow Lord said. "But, you see, the thing with that is that it's double edged sword, wouldn't you know – on the one hand, you could just shut up and live your beliefs, not really caring whether others notice your efforts or not, and on the other, you could just slap each other on the back, talking about how wonderful your way of life is while, in reality, nothing really changes, none of your big ideas are realised, except for that fact that you manage to make yourselves feel just that bit better than everyone else." Link's narrowed eyes shone. "I wonder which path is it that you and your little motley band of garden gnomes have chosen?"

The Leader fought hard to keep the scowl from his face, anger fighting with his common sense behind his eyes. Finally, he asked, "You know where the Treasure is?"

Link grinned, folding his arms once more. "Why would I lie, mate? Your little fisticuffs are of no interest to me."

The Leader bristled. "These are not mere 'fisticuffs!' This is a matter of-"

"Now, what I propose," the Shadow Lord said, cutting in, "is that I – number one – find this treasure as I've already mentioned and – number two – as a result, end your little disagreement. But," he added, grinning again, "only if I can request two favours from you in return."

There was a murmur of voices from both parties. "We won't help you," a gruff Service Fairy shouted, "until we see the Treasure with our own eyes."

Link didn't miss a beat. "But naturally."

"What," the Leader said, his brow creased in deep thought, "is the nature of your two...'requests'?"

"I thought you'd never ask, mate." Link felt his heart tremble with a mixture of delight and apprehension – this is what he'd been building up towards since he'd left Castleton a week ago. He just hadn't expected it to come so early, his plan being to find the Treasure first and negotiate later with either one of the two sides. Now that a new plan had formed in his head – one a tad more gentler than the other- he wondered whether or not if he was going barmy in his old age. "First, I need all of you – and I mean _all_ of you, working together – to assist me with a little healing exercise for someone very special to me, and second, I want you to cease all hostilities until we return with the Treasure." A pause, then, ""Oh, and whatever is written on that Treasure of yours, both sides are going to abide by it, no matter what. _Together._" He caught Navi's eye, and winked. She grinned up at him in response. "Deal?"

There was an enthusiastic chorus of assent from the Service Fairies, and one or two from the Righteous Keepers. The Leader, seeing the tide against him, held up a finger. "I just have an amendment to make," he said.

"Amend away, sunshine."

His mouth pursed in a thin smile, the Leader said, "I believe it would be prudent – for the sake of fairness and to make sure that there is no hint of betrayal here – if two Fairy observers accompanied you. One from our Brothers and one from...them." He glanced over to where Cupid had fallen, and saw that the Fairy was beginning to stir. "I think Mr C will be our representative and for the Service Fairies, if they agree..." his gaze swept over the other party, then stopped. He smiled yet another humourless smile. "Why, Miss Hawthorne would be ideal – what do you think, dear?"

"I'll do it, no doubt," she replied sternly, the hem of her skirt fluttering around her ankles.

Link didn't know what two Fairies could possibly to against him and the others if he _did _decide to double-cross them – which he had no intention of doing – but, like he always said, whatever floated their boat. He held out a finger, let the Leader and Hawthorne shake it. The Shadow Lord smiled. "Then it's agreed."


	7. Killyjanmaro

**7 – Killyjanmaro**

"Hold up, old chaps!"

The tone of Mr Red's voice was so disarmingly cheerful that it took Link a moment to realise that he'd just given a warning. The Shadow Lord had been busy gazing at his crystal, noticing that the ghostly clock in its glimmering surface had now gone past eight and was approaching nine. It must have been a fair while, Link mused, since they had pushed aside the boulder to enter the passage leading here. It certainly _felt _like it had been a while. The trail had taken them down underground, through dark narrow tunnels, then up into the open air again, into a part of the forest Link did not recognise. It was really rather a somewhat eerie place – the air _tasted _ancient, and the landscape was strewn with shattered pillars ribboned with ivy vines. And that shocking sky! It was always a deep, deep blue, as though it were permanently stuck in either dawn or twilight, one single star winking at them forlornly, reminding them of just how desolate and lonely the place was.

Link pushed himself to the front of his merry party – one ReDead, one jolly old man, one not so jolly young man, two Fairies, and a somewhat strange Love Fairy with an accent he couldn't quite place; what a bizarre little ensemble he'd banded together! The Shadow Lord sighed; even in his most private thoughts, he couldn't stop being sarcastic.

"What's the trouble, Mr Red?" Link asked.

Mr Red motioned with his hand. Up ahead the path narrowed, hemmed in on both sides by a veritable wall of dark looking thickets, the twigs and branches entwined in a claw-like embrace. "Those holes, what?" Mr Red said, pointing at several dark openings punctured into the undergrowth.

Simon DeLance poked his head over Red's shoulder. "Hedgehogs, maybe," he said, his eyes scanning the path ahead. "Or possibly squirrels." He slapped the Trapsnapper on his back. "You're not scared, 'old chap', are you?"

"Who's talking about being scared, fool?" Mr C said, buzzing overhead as usual. "I ain't scared of no hole, sucka."

The ReDead shuffled up behind them. "I hope I don't catch myself on those branches," he said, his face sagging (but, for once, staying put). "I'll be torn apart."

"Lucky you," Simon replied, before the Shadow Lord gave him a withering look.

The other two Fairies, chatting quietly amongst themselves, flew up high. "Hey!" Navi cried.

"What do you see, love?" Link asked.

"A bridge," Hawthorne replied.

"Like the one we had to cross to get into the forest," Navi added.

The Shadow Lord glanced over at Mr Red once more. "Those holes...?"

Mr Red simply smiled, reached into his pocket, pulled out a coin, and flicked it into the thicket.

The entire group jumped back as, one by one each accompanied with a _whoosh_ of air, a spear flew out of every hole, stabbing the air with a rusted metal tip that glowed dully under the strange sky, then jammed tight as it reached the opposite side, effectively barring their path. They stood, blinking, a whisper of a breeze making the bracnhes up ahead tremble. Slowly, they navigated their way through the trail, squeezing their way through the gaps between the spears, stopping only to let the ReDead pull himself together after he'd accidentally – and inevitably - knocked off a limb or two.

Finally they found themselves facing the rickety old bridge and, after peering down, they noticed that instead of a stream beneath there was some sort of bubbling black liquid that hissed and spat, turning the grass and shrubs on either bank into curled charcoal stalks. Link raised one foot, ready to test the structure – when Mr Red shot out an arm to hold him back, the jolly man's face lit with a knowing smile.

"Allow me, what?" Mr Red said. Again he pulled out another coin and, after letting it roll between his fingers, he dropped it on to the bridge. There was a moment of utter silence as the troupe watched, confused – and then a low creak rang out; the walkway shuddered, then collapsed into the water with a crackling sizzle, the burning liquid literally swallowing it whole.

"Tell me, mate," the Shadow Lord said, blinking. "Do you always make a habit of throwing away your money?" He said it in jest, but inside a deep respect had ignited for the Trapsnapper.

Simon peered over the edge, wincing as the sharp tang of sulphur reached him. "Great, just great," he muttered. "I suppose there's nothing else left to do except throw ourselves in."

Link let out an irritated breath through clenched teeth. "Oh, _here's _an idea," he spat. "Why don't we push young Mr DeLance in face first and then use him as a raft?" He glared at Simon, then jabbed him in the chest with his finger. "Can you float, mate? Can you?"

"Hey!" Simon said, backing off. "There's no need to be so aggressive!"

Eyes narrowed, the Shadow Lord grinned. "Oh, isn't there?"

A sharp snap rang out, like the cracking of an immense whip. Looking up, the Shadow Lord saw the ReDead straining, one arm stretched across the expanse, his hand digging into the dirt on the other side.

"There's...nnn...an advantage of having...nnn...undead flesh," the ReDead said, the rotted stumps of his teeth clenched. "Use...nnn...my arm as a...nnn...rope...and climb across."

"How marvellously convenient," Link said, smiling. "Let's hop on over."

And so they did.

There was only one moment a panic when Simon, who had decided to cross with his eyes closed, dared to take a peek and, seeing the churning ebony mass below belching smoke, decided to freeze and scream. Link, directly behind him, simply growled and kicked him in the back, the jolt enough to give Simon the impetus to move on. Landing safely on the other side, they waited for the ReDead to join them by snapping across like a catapult.

"Well," said the Shadow Lord, brushing himself down and surveying their surroundings. "That little jaunt established three things – Mr Red is every inch the expert he's said to be, our ReDead has talents hithero hidden, and young Mr DeLance screams like a little girl."

"Hey!"

"I don't think I can do that all the time," the ReDead said, rubbing his arm. "I don't know why...I just feel dirty, like I've abused my undead powers."

Link raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He turned – and saw two small patches of grass slide apart, two child sized figures popping up in unison.

"Halt! said the one on the left.

"You stop by default!" said the other.

"Welcome to the Land of Killyjanmaro."

"But we're afraid any further you really cannot go."

"Behind us is a magical wall barring your way."

"Unless you can give us a rhyme, you must go a-way."

"East Killy, West Killy, it doesn't really matter,"

"My name is Jaeri and my partner here is Zatter."

Mr C buzzed overhead, his glowing form striking against the unnatural twilight skyline. "Who are these suckas?"

"Kokiri," Hawthorne said, her voice strangely hushed. She shed Fairy Dust as though it were a second skin – it was a bad habit of hers that only happened when she was deep in thought. The tiny incandescent drops rained to the ground. "They're Kokiri."

"I pity these fools." Cupid flew straight over their heads – and in a flash of magical energy found himself thrown straight back. "I'll gut them all!" he said, rubbing his head.

Mr Red smiled amiably, looking around in a haze of incomprehension. "What is it they're wanting, what? Bon bons, is it? Candy for the little chaps, eh?"

"Hey!" Navi cried, hovering silently, the gurgle of the dark river coupled with a breeze they couldn't quite feel being the only sounds in the air. "A rhyme! They said they want a rhyme!"

Closing his eyes, Link let out another breath of frustration. He didn't have the time for this. "Look, you little buggers, just let us through, or I'll take my nice shiny sword and stick it through the both of you!"

The river popped and gurgled behind them as everyone fell into silence. Slowly all eyes turned to the Shadow Lord.

"That was really quite good," said Simon, grinning. "For an on-the-spot sort of thing, that is."

"Jolly good show, old chap," Mr Red said, agreeing.

Navi spun happily in the air as Hawthorne and the ReDead attempted to slap each other's palms. "Link!" she cried. "Link, you've done it again!"

Looking at each of them in turn, the Shadow Lord wore an expression of complete bewilderment. "What?" he said, his voice uncertain. "What did I do?"

"Another!" said Jeari.

"Yes, another!" said Zatter. "Another rhyme, says we."

"And, then," Jaeri chimed in, "you'll all truly be free!"

Link, still not quite understanding what was going on, curled his hands into fists. "Rrrrrrr!" he growled. "Stop it with the songs, you great pair of chillis, one more word out of the both of you and I'll slap you silly from East to West Killy!"

Jaeri and Zatter turned to each other. "That'll do nicely!" they said in unison before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

"What? _What?_" Link cried, confused, as the others slapped him on the back with hearty cries of "Hurrah!" and "Bravo!"

2

The further they went from the dark river, the more the landscape changed. Ivy vines still clung to the broken debris of long-forgotten palaces, but here the grass was fresh, the summer scent of blossom strong and – at last- the sky shimmered blue, the sharp glint of the sun riding high among an expanse of wispy clouds. Fairy Dust floated through the air here, caught on warm currents of air that stroked their faces, a fountain of sparkling light, scented rose, that clung both to their clothes and the tall, thick trunks of the nearby trees.

_This _was the Kokiri Forest Link remembered. A sudden pang, sharp like a slap to the face, stabbed his heart. He was filled with an immense yearning – a longing not to just go back to the 'home' where he'd been raised, but to take his wife with him. She would, he knew, have had a simply splendid time lazing in the sun on a blanket of flowers, thanks very much. The Shadow Lord pushed the thoughts away – he had responsibilites now, both to Castleton and the Princess, and it wouldn't be wise for him to childishly wish for a simpler time. You could never go back, not unless you travelled by a river of madness.

He wasn't, though, the type of person who didn't realise that just because his duties were serious, it did not mean that he had to take _himself_ seriously. He could, as he constantly reminded the Princess, still appreciate the simpler things even while he went about his business; enjoy them without desperately trying to become an image of maturity that he noted other people were so keen to display to others – as though the poor loves and mates needed other people to confirm it for them - even though it was those very people that indulged in frivilous matters like those pesky tournaments in the King's Palace.

Still. He hoped he could bring Zelda...well, if not here, then to the Forest itself. She'd love it.

"Hey!" Navi whispered, floating up to the Shadow Lord's ear. "What's so funny? What are you smiling about this time?"

"Was I smiling?" Link said, not realising that that's what he'd been doing. Not that anyone could tell given that that was the usual expression he wore. "I'm just reminiscing."

Hawthorne's tiny voice broke through the Shadow Lord's musings. "I wonder what those Kokiri were doing here," she said. "They all left the Forest when the war started. Scared them off, no doubt."

The Shadow Lord looked up. "Maybe they-" There was a sudden change in the air, a sudden dimming of the sunlight poking through the trees. "Hold." His eyes scanned the horizon, going from the undergrowth up to the tips of the trees – he froze. His gaze focused on a lone oak, Fairy Dust raining from it like a slow-moving sparkling waterfall. There was a whispered crackle of leaves. Link narrowed his eyes. "Whoever you are-"

A spear rammed into the tree, knocking leaves rustling into the air. There was a shriek, then a small hooded figure dropped down to the ground. Its head snapped up, piercing emerald eyes fixing the Shadow Lord with a stare, then it bolted, more spears screaming in on its trail.

In an instant, the Shadow Lord of Castleton had his blade spinning into his hand, a razor-thin streak of light running down its edge. "Gentlemen, Fairies," he called out behind him. "Your weapons – or whatever it is you have to defend yourselves – at the ready, if you please." With two sharp turns of his head, Link spotted both the fleeing Hood and the pursuing spear-men. He leapt, following Hood's trail. Grabbing an overhanging branch with his free hand –it sagged under his weight, but held firm – he swung, then let go, rolling gracefully in the air, the sun's warmth prickling his back.

Landing with a crunch of broken twigs, the Shadow Lord heard his friends smashing – clumsily, he would have to admit – through the undergrowth. He took a quick glance over his shoulder, and saw that Hood had paused for a moment, standing in a raised clearing at the head of a weather-worn path, watching everything intently. "Wait!" he called. He turned back with a snap of his neck, just as the spearmen came into view. "Wolfos?" the Shadow Lord breathed. But these were not ordinary Wolfos, oh no. These were snarling, growling beasts who stood upright on two legs, clothed in the attire of woodsmen.

Link tensed as one of the beasts, yellowed eyes narrowed over a drooling snout, twirled a spear into one hand, pulled back his arm, and threw. Just as the Shadow Lord focused on that attack, he saw, from the corner of his eye, the other creature throw his own weapon. Dodging and weaving, Link spun this way and that, the spears screaming past his twitching ears, missing him by a hair. More of the steel-tipped javelins streaked towards him riding the wind, spinning, the air around them distorted.

The Shadow Lord laughed, almost manically, his fear blunted by the sheer exhilaration of battle. With a downward slash Link snapped the first spear in two, then spun around to catch the next, his sword trailing twinkling Fairy Dust. Another one was upon him in a heartbeat and – finally – Link felt true terror freeze in his veins. His mind raced, his thoughts jumbled – and only two words, totally disconnected to the other, burned into his consciousness just then: _Zelda. Trust._

The sun was eclipsed, a shadow falling over Link's face, a shadow that grunted and shook, stumbling back. His senses returning, the Shadow Lord saw that the ReDead had stepped in to take the blow. Link glanced up at the undead man. "Thanks, mate," he said. "That's twice in one day you've come in handy."

"Don't mention it," the ReDead said, pulling the spear free with a somewhat sickening plop. "Anytime."

A sudden thought popped into Link's head and the Shadow Lord grinned, a glint in his eye.

The ReDead looked worried. "What?"

"I do believe, mate," Link replied, "that I'm currently in dire need of a shield; an unbreakable one at that."

"Oh no!"

Link cackled. "And _you_ just happen to match that particular description."

"Hey!" the ReDead shouted as the Shadow Lord shoved him forward, spears whizzing around the both of them. "Stop!"

Pushing onwards, the ReDead harmlessly taking every strike ahead of him, Link waded in, dead vegetation churning and snapping under his boots. The Wolfos, their saliva coated teeth grinning, snarled as he inched closer. The Shadow Lord peeked over his 'shield's' shoulder, saw a sparkle of glinting light – then flung himself flat against the ReDead's back as another spear pierced the space where his head had just been. Droplets of sweat pooling at the collar his tunic, Link flexed his fingers around the hilt of his sword, dug his other hand into the ReDead's dead skin, then swung in, sword at the ready. All it took was a pair of precise slashes – stunning the beasts – to send the Wolfos running deep into the forest, their mournful howls hanging in the air.

"Link!" Navi called, zipping through the trees. "Hey! Are you ok?"

Pausing to give one last lingering look at the Wolfos fleeing forms, the Shadow Lord turned around, flicking dirt off of his tunic. "Don't worry about me, love. How's that hooded person doing?"

"What about me?" the ReDead said, tugging spears from his undead flesh. "Isn't anyone going to ask how I am?"

Link turned to him slowly, one eyebrow raised. "You're dead, Mr ReDead," he said, his voice blank. "I can hardly tell you to put a little cream on that, drink plenty of juice and get some rest, now can I?"

"She's fainted!" It was Hawthorne, clearly distressed. The Shadow Lord snapped his head up, saw the Hood lying crumpled on the ground. "She just dropped!"

Bounding over rocks and boulders, branches slapping him in the face, Link ran over to where the Hood lay, the others standing over her in a circle. He peered down at her face. "She's a Kokiri, too," the Shadow Lord murmured.

With a start, the Hood's eyes flung open. "Grandma!" she squealed. "I was just going to Grandma to deliver some scones! But when I got there, she wasn't there! And, my Grandma, what big teeth you have! And what hairy skin!"

"She's babbling," Hawthorne said.

"Wolfos!" Hood went on, oblivious. "Wolfos dressed as Grandma!" Her lips curled and she growled. "They wanted the scones! But they'll never get the scones! Over my dead body!"

"I say, what?" Mr Red said cheerily. "Hell hath no fury like a woman with a scone, that's always been my motto."

Ignoring him, the Shadow Lord crouched. "What's your name, little love?" he said.

Hood shifted her head slightly, her emerald eyes meeting his – then bolted upright, her hand grasping Link's. "Don't let her get me!" she cried, fear pulsing from her voice. Her fingernails bit into Link's hands, splitting the skin. "Don't let her find me!"

The Shadow Lord wrapped his other hand around the girl's trembling fingers. "Don't let who get you, little love?" he said softly. "What's going on here?"

Her grip tightened, her eyes casting a wan light as they widened minutely. "You..." she said, her voice eerily deepening as it began to amplify, as though the threads of a thousand different voices wound their way in and around the others. "Your soul is splintered, fractured."

Link blinked. "What?"

"How could anyone bear what you did?" Pain crossed her face. "A child with a man's task...then a man with a child's mind...then sent back to live a childhood over again. How could anyone endure that and still stay sane?"

The Shadow Lord bristled. "I'm perfectly sane, thanks very much!"

"But she's a balm, I can see. She helps you bring balance, though you have to struggle to find it." Her voice dropped to a whisper, her gaze piercing. "You don't know, do you? He wants her." Sadness flooded her tiny features. "He wants to make her forget you and make her his!"

Confusion creased the Shadow Lord's brow. "Who wants whom? Forget me? What do you mean, love?"

There was a crack of a whip, and then a trundle of hooves and wheels. The little party turned as one to see a carriage, gleaming with polished oak, rattle into the clearing from the dusty path. It stopped with a jolt, the horses shaking their heads and snorting, hooves scuffing the ground. The brass handle turned downward with a click, then the door swung open, a group Kokiri spilling out, at the head of which was –

"Saria, love!" Link cried, grinning as he spied his old friend. "What are you doing here?"

Stepping out of the carriage, Saria gave him the briefest of dismissive glances before her eyes came to rest on Hood. "She'll be coming with us," she said.

"Don't let her get me!" Hood whispered from the ground. No one but Link heard and even he didn't quite understand – except that he was certain that the 'her' the child mentioned here was not the same 'her' that was meant to forget him. He had a sneaking suspicion who _that_ was, and the realisation turned his insides to ice.

Her eyes going from one person to the next, Saria put her hands on her hips. "In fact," she said, "you'll all be coming with us."

**A/N: **Hel-_lo!_ I doubt any of you value my opinion much, but perhaps I could interest you in checking out **Nendil**'s fics (you'll find her in my 'favourite authors' list); both are beautifully written and sadly underappreciated. Her fics are **Destiny's Opus: Finale **and **Destiny's Opus: Overture**, the latter of which I think is the best darn thing in the Zelda section. Leave a review at either or both; 'tis only nice!


	8. It's Dark

**8– It's Dark**

Link flipped the crystal into his hand as the carriage rocked and shuddered its way through the forest. Night was falling, the rain had returned, and the dim light was smudged and inconstant, as though the world had become enshrouded in an eerie ghostly mist. The Shadow Lord's eyes narrowed as he noted that the floating clock in the crystal had not changed one jot – the second hand was still past eight and approaching nine.

"Time has no meaning here." It was Saria, gazing at him intently. They'd all been squeezed into the small carriage, their limbs jammed up against each other's. Hood lay in one corner, her chest rising and falling as she slept, the three Fairies hovering above her. The other Kokiris were, Link had been told, going to follow them on foot.

"But," the Shadow Lord said. "The sun rises and it sets, love. Must be some semblance of time, no?"

The carriage lurched over the uneven ground, jolting them all for a moment. Saria held his gaze, then said, "I can't explain it," before looking away.

Opening the window, frosted with rainwater as it was, the Shadow Lord of Castleton peered outside. The ghostly sensation he'd felt within was even pronounced outside. The trees seemed faint, as though they were not quite rooted in reality, and solid objects seemed too fragile, as though they would swirl away in the moaning wind. Small, glittering eyes stared out from the gloom, blinked, then vanished. The path they travelled upon, broken and hole-ridden as it was, was illuminated by lamps, themselves hanging from curved branches knitted into each other to form an archway over the road.

Link leaned back, the sharp air outside stinging in its chill, and let the pleasant scent of pine float in to mix with the heavy stench of leather. _No time here._ It was what he'd wanted; at least Zelda would be safe, but stuck here with the Kokiri was not helping him one jot in his task. Something clutched at his heart for a moment as memories swirled around his head – the annoyed frown the Princess would give him whenever he left their chambers in a state, the myriad arguments they had, often ending them just teasing one another mercilessly, the almost bewildering way she managed to both infuriate him with her lack of foresight when dealing with the gray wasteland of other people's disputes and dramas and, at the same time, move him to the core deep down, because all her insane schemes were motivated by a kindness that he didn't think he himself possessed. An impartial observer may have noted that all he was dwelling on was the negative, but to the Shadow Lord of Castleton, it was these very things that he missed so much. Above all, what he missed the most was, as he'd said to Navi in the Grand Library, the fact that they were a _team_, almost a force of nature that swept through Hyrule and did what _had_ to be done.

_No time_. He'd agreed to go along with the Kokiri because they were his old friends, Saria the oldest friend of all, but now he wondered if he hadn't actually made a rather uncharacteristic lapse in judgement. His eyes fell upon Hood – he still didn't know her name – and her forlorn cry of 'Don't let her get me!' rang around his head.

Someone fidgeted next to him. "I was wondering." It was Simon DeLance. "Miss Hawthorne, you're a...ah...a Hair Fairy, right?"

Hawthorne glanced up. "That's what I am, no doubt. What of it?"

Link noticed that Saria was paying rapt attention to all three Fairies now. DeLance cleared his throat and went on. "I was just wondering, what exactly is that you do with all that hair?"

"What's it to you, sucka?" Mr C glared at Simon, arms folded across his tiny chest. "That's Fairy business. Fool like you wouldn't understand."

Both Hawthorne and Navi looked suitably shocked, as though Mr C was the last person in the world that they expected to stand up for them. "It's, um, it's alright," Hawthorne said. "I'll tell him."

"Well, praise be," Saria muttered under her breath, her bitterness clear. "The Fairies are working together."

Hawthorne gave the Kokiri an odd look before she turned her attention to Simon. "I do with the hair what the Tooth Fairy does with the teeth she pinches."

"And what exactly is that?" Simon asked, leaning forward, the leather seats squeaking as a result.

A hint of a smile danced on Hawthorne's lips. "I give the hair to someone who doesn't have any."

Simon paused, the rumble of the carriage filling the silence, and looked as though he wasn't sure if he was being teased or not. "You what?"

"You heard me, no doubt." Hawthorne fluttered her wings, Fairy Dust sprinkling into the air. "That's what we Service Fairies do. We _serve_." She gave Cupid a sideways glance. "And proud of it we are, too, no doubt."

Frowning, DeLance asked, "Are you trying to tell me," he said slowly, "that people wake up one day with new teeth and hair?"

Hawthorne chewed on the inside of her cheek. "Well, yes," she said, a little uncertain. "But you have to remember that it's usually the young uns who get the teeth and, erm, not all the hair has to appear on someone's head." She coughed politely. "It's done with Fairy Dust, just in case you were thinking of asking."

"I say, very efficient, what?" Mr Red said, his round face beaming as he gazed from side to side. "It's jolly good, don't you think, old chap?" He nudged the ReDead.

"I wish I could get new hair and teeth," the ReDead said mournfully. "Mine always tend to fall out. I put them back in, of course, but it's just not the same. In fact, I wish I could get a new body." He pondered this, then added, "Actually, come to think of it, I need to get a life."

"And I thank you for your honesty, mate," Link said, a wicked grin on his face.

"Still," Mr Red went on, undeterred. "It's a splendid little service, what?"

"It's a shame, then," Saria added, her voice a dam of ice. "That they've stopped being so helpful, isn't it?"

Link met her with a level gaze. "Is this what this is all about, love?" the Shadow Lord asked. "The Fairy War?"

Before Saria could reply, the carriage came to a shuddering halt. The little Kokiri flung the door open and jumped out, beckoning for the others to follow. Outside, Link found himself in a Kokiri village not unlike the one he'd grown up in so long ago. Straw-roofed huts sat upon towering platforms, a homely glow of a fire smudging the windows, a rope ladder dangling from side, gently pushed to and fro by the breeze. The Kokiris were hard at work; hammering here and sawing there, but when the three Fairies floated out of the carriage, they all stopped, nudging and winking at one another, some whispering under their breath.

The rain had stopped now and the air was fresh, the ground beneath their boots slimy and wet. The Shadow Lord followed Saria deeper into the village, his cloak trailing behind him, scattering the withered remains of dead leaves in his wake. He stopped short as Saria spun around all of a sudden.

"It is about the war, Link, yes," she said. "We had to leave our old home, our home for centuries, the one we both we grew up in, and had to hide here." She blinked, but her face betrayed no emotion. "They were destroying everything just trying to kill each other. I've never seen them act like that before – I mean, what would the Great Deku Tree have said?" She gave the Fairies a sour look before she went on, "We knew about this place. Killyjanmaro – it was secret, hidden, but the Know-it-all-Brothers naturally knew where it was. So, here we are, safe and sound." A liquid sheen fell across her eyes, a pleading look on her face. "Don't you remember, Link? The way we were?"

"We got on splendidly, I recall, love." It was, Link hoped, a subtle reminder that things had now changed. She didn't catch it.

"_Yes._" Desperation needled her voice. "Don't you miss it? Now look what's happened to us. Our home is gone." Her eyes flashed in the starlight. "It's all the Fairies fault."

And he did remember – not only that but he recalled his own promise to bring Zelda to the Forest once all this was over, so she, too, could taste the simple life that he'd had. _She so would have loved it_; _they'd have had a simply splendid time. _There was a spark of anger in his heart, the briefest striking of a flint that threatened to erupt – and then he stilled himself, listening to the froth of his churning emotions, but not giving in to them. _Trust._ He saw, with trepidation, the rage fighting its way under Saria's face and knew that he didn't want any part of it. He'd grown out of all that, too – the tantrums, the pettiness. _Well, alright, if I'm brutally honest,_ he admitted, _I've mostly grown out of it._

Another notion came to him: _What would Zelda do?_

"Aren't you going to-" Saria paused as a pair of Kokiri rushed past her, poked their heads into the carriage, and then pulled Hood out. "_She_ is the key," Saria said, pointing at Hood.

"The girl?" Link asked. "Hood?"

"Her name is Chrysania," his old friend replied. "She's the reason why they're fighting."

The Shadow Lord wrapped his cloak around himself to protect against the chill, and then raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Who told you that, love?"

Saria looked him straight in the eye. "The Queen of the Fairies."

"Hey!" Navi said, fluttering into the air. "The Fairy Queen?"

"She's here?" Hawthorne added, shedding Dust as she began to ponder.

Navi turned to the Shadow Lord. "She's bad news, Link. Don't listen to her!"

A crowd had formed around them now, all eyes on the Fairies, hate lining the Kokiris faces as they let their tools dangle from their hands. Saria glanced up at Navi, knew a moment of hesitation, then steeled herself once more. "Chrysania has to die, and the war will end and we can all go home." Misery fought with weariness in her voice. Her next words were so blunt that Link almost flinched. "She just has to die."

The Shadow Lord gazed down at his old friend. "Why?"

"She's a…" Saria frowned, searching for the right words. "She's a seer. She sees things other people can't." She sniffed. "The future, people's thoughts, that sort of thing. The Queen of the Fairies told us that it was unnatural magic, one that had to be put out, one that had bewitched the Fairies to start killing each other."

"And," said Link, "have you had this connection between the little love and the Fairy War verified?"

Saria ignored him, a knife suddenly in her hand, the glint at its sharp tip just as bright as the spark in her eyes. "I'll kill her myself just so things could go back to the way they were!" She was growling now, and Link almost had to take a step back. "She knew she was guilty and ran away! She should just die!"

Faster than liquid lightning the Shadow Lord's hand snaked out and grabbed Saria's wrist. With a twist, the knife fell from her hand. Again, Link repeated the question: "But tell me why? _Really _why."

"Because I wish it, that's why!" The voice came from an obese blob of light that buzzed into view, all eight wings struggling to keep the massive bulk in the air. "And whatever I wish," the shrill voice continued, "must be done!"

"Who's this sucka?" Mr C said, his face wearing an expression that showed that he was clearly not impressed.

"The Fairy Queen, I gather," Simon added. The breeze played havoc with his silver hair as he spoke. His eyes found Hawthorne and Navi – both hugging the other in fright – and he asked, "Mind filling us in?"

"A Queen she's not, no doubt," Hawthorne said, fixing the other Fairy with a heated stare. "She ran a…a…an organisation – she used to have a small gang that used to pick on Fairies like me, ones with the gold coins. She'd set her goons on us and steal our money."

"But the Self-Righteous Posse finally took her gang out," Navi said, sniffing. "Did something useful for a change."

Link saw the Queen, saw her looking down her nose, saw her heavily painted face, heard Hawthorne and Navi's words, and sized her up instantly. "And, of course," he said. "The pathetic little love now has no-one to boss around anymore. So here she comes, duping the Kokiris." The crowd bristled at this; even Saria gave him an icy look. "There's no need to kill Chysania is there? Find the Kokiris desperate and feed them any old story to get them to obey you, isn't it? It just appeals to your vanity, doesn't it?"

The Queen bared her rotted teeth. "Do you dare to presume arrogance to me?"

"Don't listen to them, Link," Saria said, nodding at the two Fairies. "They're not to be trusted, not anymore."

The Shadow Lord drew himself up to his full height, his face darkening, his cloak billowing. "Oh, and why is that, love?"

Saria stood firm as the other Kokiri shrank back. "You didn't see what they did to our village. The _pain_ that they caused."

"Love," the Shadow Lord went on, his cloak flapping around his boots. "'They' didn't do anything. And it's hardly right to blame the lot of them for the actions of a few. What happened to all those years the Kokiri and the Fairies worked together? You're going to forget that, sunshine? You're going to kill this one Kokiri on _her_ word? She's a Fairy, too, in case you haven't noticed."

"We can trust her. She helped us."

Link's eyes blazed in the dark. "That's the thing about help, isn't it, love? Some people do it because they want something in return." He gazed up at the Queen. "She just wants her pathetic little hubris stroked, that's all it is, love. I can't believe you're going to kill one of your own just because you haven't yet grown out of the fact that when someone hurts _you_, it doesn't necessarily mean you have to hurt them back – and especially doesn't mean you hurt people who had nothing to do with your misfortune in the first place."

Saria reeled, as though she'd been slapped. "You're the one who's always telling me to do what's right!" She pressed her arms against her sides, her hands curled into fists. "To make the difficult decision!"

"No, love," Link replied, cutting in. "To make the right decision, even if it's difficult. Not the easy – let's- all- feel –better- about- ourselves- even- though- we've -accomplished -nothing – decision."

"You don't-"

"_Silence!_" They all looked up at the sound of the Fairy Queen's voice. "I tire of this bickering." She snapped her fingers. "If none of you are willing to kill the wench, then my champion will do it for me!"

"Champion?" DeLance asked. "Who-?"

The Shadow Lord's eyes widened as the 'champion' made his appearance. "Oh for the love of Tingle, not him!" he cried. "Where did you dig _that _sap up from!"

The champion strolled into the village, his frilly lace shirt – as black as coal - buffeted by the breeze. He stopped, then gazed around at each and every one of them, his eyes lingering on every face. Simon, Mr Red and the ReDead gasped. "Why," Mr Red said, "he looks just like-"

"Ah," the champion cut in, smiling cheerily. "What a wonderful night it is! It's just so..." He began to sniff. "...so beautiful...that..." Tears streamed down his cheek. "...that it makes me want to...to..." He sobbed, his lip blubbering as he began to cry.

Link closed his eyes, put one hand over his brow, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the champion said. He stumbled over an ill-placed boulder "Oh!" he gasped. "You poor rock! You poor, poor, rock!" He patted the offended item, then began sniffling once again. "I know what can make you feel better – a poem!"

Saria cleared her throat. "Put the sword away, Link."

"I'm terribly sorry, I do apologise."

The champion looked up. "And – oh!" he said. "Look at you all! Standing there so angry! You're just –you're just in so much obvious pain that I really wish...I could just..." He threw back his head and wept some more.

As he did so, a wiry imp -like creature pulled itself out of the corner of his tunic, his long ears unfurling. The creature looked around. "What's going on here, then?" it said. "Oh, I _see._" Its voice dropped to a whisper edged with a quiet hint of a threat._ "_You all want to fight, don't you? You want a whupping that'll you'll remember all the way to your death bed, don't you?"

"Now, now," the champion said. "I'm sure it'd all go fine, if we just learned to love each other and share and – oh! I stepped on a flower! The poor flower! Oh, someone just sacrifice me to the powers above just to remove this stain of burden from my soul!"

"How about an arrow?" the Shadow Lord's said, leaning in towards Saria. "I'll just use an arrow instead, shall I? It'll hurt more and cause a much more lingering death." He shook his head. "I can't believe this! First you throw in with that bad egg of a Queen and now _them._" Link stared at the small wiry creature. "One of the Antagonistic Imps of Hostilia," he turned to the frilly-silk wearing sap, "and Dark Link himself!"

2

"I'm so sorry, patch of grass," Dark Link said. "I'm about to sit on you now. I say, good sir, that you may perish in the endeavour." He began sniffling. "I really really really share your pain and hope your fellow blades of grass can forgive me as I'm sure I'll never forgive myself."

The Shadow Lord, his earlier thoughts of self-control now completely evaporated, made a face behind Dark's back. Simon nudged him in the ribs in response. They sat around an ethereal fire, its flames whispering and calm, giving heat but no smoke. Around them the new Kokiri village was alert, brightly lit lamps swinging from vines tied to the high platforms, the Kokiris watching them, some leaning over balconies in their new huts, some on the ground, resting upon each others' shoulders.

"Alas, poor grass," Dark said, wiping away a tear as he sat, "I bid thee a fond farewell."

"And _this,_" the Shadow Lord said, "is who you're going to use to murder a child? He's useless!"

Dark Link sat up, his stiff upper lip quivering. "I say, good sir, there's no need to be so personal. It hurts my feelings, don't you know?"

The Imp scrabbled up to Dark's shoulder. "And you don't need him to do the dirty, let me assure you," it croaked. "We got all the weapons we need…riiiighht…heeere." He held up two tiny wiry fists. Link gaped at him in disbelief.

"Besides," Dark added. "That child is a demon spawn with evil magical powers –"

" –oh, I don't believe this. Evil magical powers? –"

"I," said the Imp, "have got your evil magical powers riiiiiighhht heeeereee." He thrust out his hips. Link's face crumpled in utter bewilderment.

"- magical powers," Dark Link cut in. "And so she clearly deserves to die."

The Shadow Lord resisted the urge to make a slightly more ruder gesture. "And how did you reach that particular conclusion, mate?"

The wind tugged at the pure white flames, pulling them this way and that as Dark Link gazed up at the Fairy Queen, his eyelashes fluttering. "Why, this fair maiden, this picture of beauty itself told me. And so it must be true."

The Queen, her cheeks actually tinted with a blush, patted him on the shoulder. "I know my champion will fight to the death for me."

"And your wings!" Dark Link began to sniffle. "I could…I could just…write an ode just about them…if I wasn't so overwhelmed by their beauty."

The Shadow Lord leaned in close to his friends. "Hold on. Which one of these is the Queen of the Fairies again?"

The Queen and Dark glared at him. The Imp growled. "I don't know what world you come from, but anyone who insults the _man _here" – it pointed at Dark – "will be seeing the business end of _these_ lethal weapons riiiiight heeeereeee." He waved his fists some more.

"Pardon me while I laugh hysterically like a hyena on a Red Potion diet, mate." The Shadow Lord looked at Simon. "It's not these two you met in your many adventures, is it? If it is, then I can finally understand why you want to do away with yourself. Here, use my sword."

"Good sir, I beg you hold your tongue and stay your hand," Dark replied, rigid pride carved upon his face. "We are, after all, just two sides of the same coin."

The Shadow Lord almost choked, his eyes bulging. "Look at you, mate! You look like Tingle on a girls night out at Gerudo Fortress! Where's your Green Hat, boy? You're a disgrace to the name 'Link!'"

Saria stood nearby, the shadows of the fire dancing on her face, the Fairy Queen now at her shoulder. "_Please_," she said. "Let's all discuss this like the _intelligent _people that we are."

The Imp snorted. "There's no brains in _fairy boy_ over there."

"I'm terribly sorry," the Shadow Lord replied. "Were you, perchance, referring to your erstwhile employer over who, as I speak, is now desperately trying to talk to his stomach apologising to the food he's digested for daring to put it in his mouth without his permission?"

"You keep that up," the Imp said, "and you'll be having one-on-one personal meeting with my very own _fairy boy_ riiiiiight heeeere." He swivelled around and stuck out his rear end.

The Shadow Lord just stared, open-mouthed. "What…the…"

"_Stop_," Saria snapped. "Just stop."

"Fairy boy and his boy wonder," the Shadow Lord muttered under his breath. "Laugh? Not since I dropped Kaepora Gaebora into a cauldron of high-grade Red Potion itself.

Saria's eyes blazed. "Just leave it, Link!"

"Yes, sure, love," he muttered. "I give up trying to talk to these great pair of fairy boys."

"Ah ha!" the Imp jumped up. "So you admit defeat, eh, fairy boy?"

"_Stop saying fairy boy, both of you! Stop it, stop it, stop it!_" Saria stood in the centre, her chest heaving as all eyes set upon her. Clearing her throat, she composed herself and went on. "It has to be done, Link, I'm sorry," the Kokiri said. "I brought you here because I thought you'd see sense – that you'd see how much we hurt and how much work we've done – and so you'd do the deed yourself. I guess I was wrong."

"I don't know what's got into you, love," the Shadow Lord replied, genuine sadness lacing his voice. "I never though that you, of all people, would become blinded by hate." Pushing aside his uneasiness, deep inside Link again wondered exactly how Princess Zelda would have handled this.

As the others talked, Navi flew in close to Dark, her curiosity getting the better of her. Drops of twinkling Fairy Dust flew off of her as she looked closely at the man who resembled Link so much. The Dark One spotted her, and his face crumpled with sympathy. "Oh, you poor thing!" he said, patting her on the head. "Imagine being a slave to that fiend."

Navi folded her arms, her face wearing an expression of pure irritation. "Stop touching me."

"It must be so hard for you," Dark went on. "My heart bleeds. Truly, it does." He patted her some more.

"Stop that."

"I imagine he makes you do the most ghastly things." He stroked her head.

"Stop it now."

"Truly, I will weep for you. You poor poor little thing." He stroked some more.

"Stop patting me on the head or I'll bite your fingers off."

"Ah! Here's an idea! Why don't you run away with me? We'll have such a grand adventure!"

"Oh, yes? And why don't you just kiss my tiny Fairy-Dust-stained-"

"_Assume_ for a moment, love," the Shadow Lord was saying, his eyes on Saria. "That she's not telling the truth, and the war goes on. Do you think you could live with that?"

Saria's face remained blank. "If she's lying, I'll make her pay, then make _all_ Fairies pay."

Link let out a breath. It was...a tad disconcerting...to hear his old friend speak in such a manner. He opened his mouth to tell her to pull herself together, but realised that, in her current state, it would just be a waste of words. He doubted, too, that if he did tell Saria about whys and wherefores of the war, that she would even believe him.

The Imp made his presence felt yet again. "I'll make all the Fairies pay, don't you worry," he cackled. "I got the goods riiiiighhtt herrrreeeee." He slapped the tiny excuses for muscles that dangled from his arms.

The Shadow Lord pierced him with a withering look. "I've just about had my fill of you, sunshine."

"_Please."_ Saria said, exasperated. "_Calm. Down._"

The Imp, however, wouldn't be cowed. "I can see the only way I can get through to fairy boy is by giving him the world-class beating that he so richly deserves."

Link bristled. "Oh, yes?"

"Stop!" Saria cried, holding her head. "Just stop!"

"Yes, indeed," the Imp replied, yellow teeth grinning. "You want the crown jewels do you? I got the crown jewels riiiiigghhht heeeereee. You want to walk out of here with your arms, legs and neck broken? I wouldn't normally roll out the heavy goods, but you just say the word and it's a whole world of pain for you, fairy boy."

The Shadow Lord rolled his eyes. "I don't see how-"

"Right! The crown jewels it is then!"

"Oh, it's on now, mate!"

"Listen!" Mr Red sat with hand aloft.

"Yes, mate?" Link asked as the others tried to hold him back. "You got something to add to our less-than-productive dialogue?"

Mr Red grinned. "I say, old chaps, I am quite the connoisseur in Fairy lore, what? And I do believe that there is a precedent for such a situation such as this."

Link narrowed his eyes, interested. He could practically feel the Queen squirming in the air. "Do tell all, mate."

"When one set of people wishes one of two groups of Fairies to leave them – until a reconciliation can be made – then proper manners is to have a competition." Mr Red beamed happily, not noticing the Kokiris leaning in close. "The Queen on one side, the Fairies on the other. Except – the loser of the contest will be exiled forever; a little bit of bewitched Fairy Dust will make sure of that, what? While the winner will choose to leave voluntarily, if the Kokiri so wish – this time sprinkling warning Dust that tells other Fairies to beware of the area. Except that the winners can be invited back by the people – in this case, the Kokiri – any time they wish. Either way," Mr Red said with a happy shrug, "the Fairies leave. Or, in this case, they simply don't come back."

Saria glanced at the Queen. "Is this true?"

"Well, technically, yes-"

"And," the Shadow Lord said, quickly jumping in, his grin in place. "No one dies. Either way, Chrysania goes free." He paused, his mind racing as the vaporous flames licked the air. His eyes fell upon Dark Link. The Shadow Lord of Castleton's grin grew just that notch wider. "Here's a canny proposal; gets rid of two birds with the same stone. I say we have a duel."

The Fairy Queen took in a deep breath, her chest jutting out. "Well, I don't think-"

"A duel?" Saria interrupted, catching on. "So, Dark Link for the Queen." There was a ghost of a smile on her face, a trace of her old self resurfacing. "And I assume, the Shadow Lord for the Fairies?"

Link winked. "Got it in one, love"

Teeth bared in anger once more, the Fairy Queen spat out her words. "No! No, no,no!"

Saria raised an eyebrow. "I think it's up to us to decide, not you." The Kokiris responded with a flutter, murmurs of agreement rushing through the village like a wave.

The Fairy Queen hissed. "I know about this pathetic ruffian." She stared at the Shadow Lord's ever-grinning face. "He's an interfering no-good twit. And I'm not having him stick his nose in here, where it's not wanted. Him and his ugly, scarfaced Princess of his."

The temperature dropped as the Shadow Lord's face darkened once again. A sudden ice-cold gust of wind flew through the village, fluttering the fire and making the lamps swing wildly. The watching Kokiri backed away slowly, fear on their faces. Link's eyes narrowed. "You can say what you want about me, love," he said quietly, "but if your besmirch the honour of my good lady – well, that's just plain rude. This duel is on. And now I'm not just fighting for the little Kokiri girl. I'm fighting for Zelda."

Saria brought her hands together. "It's settled then!" she said, loud enough for all to hear. "As soon as the sun rises, Dark Link and the Shadow Lord will duel – for the life of one girl, and the honour of another!"


	9. Duel of the Links

**9 – Duel of the Links**

Morning broke over a circular field some distance away from the new Kokiri Village, the tall blades of grass tugged this way and that in an emerald sea, beams of fresh sunlight catching the blade of a solitary warrior standing dead centre as he methodically danced his way through various intricate manoeuvres. Drops of sweat flew from the Shadow Lord's skin as his sword spun and twirled gracefully in his hand, sighing as it chopped the air.

_Zelda, it all goes back to Zelda,_ Link thought as he lunged in at an imaginary opponent. _Would I be undergoing this particular little enterprise if I hadn't picked up the Princess' bad habits? Fighting to the death to save a Kokiri girl? No, no, I wouldn't be doing this at all._

_Yes, you would._ The other voice – the other, deeper side to him that had braved all to save Hyrule – made its presence felt instantly. _Yes, you would. Maybe not exactly in this particular fashion, but you would have found a way, you always do._

_Shut up_, the Shadow Lord told the other voice as he digested its advice.

It all went back to the same thing: if anything important needed to be done, it would always fall on the 'Hero' to do it. Perish the thought that people would try and push for change by their own little hands.

"Still," Link mused, out loud. "Looks like it's going to be yet another lovely day. A lovely day for a duel, that is."

It wasn't long before the others came to join him. Dark Link – the Shadow Lord had to roll his eyes as the Dark One apologised to the air as he breathed it in – strolled in with Saria and the Fairy Queen, the latter two taking a position on one side of the field, while Navi and the rest of Link's troupe stood to attention on the other side. Pollen and Fairy Dust sprinkled the air as the Dark One took up his place directly in front of the Shadow Lord, sword at the ready. The bloated orb of the sun crept up over them, a silent witness to the contest below.

"None of your little Kokiri friends coming to watch the grand spectacle?" Link asked, looking over at Saria.

"All they need to know is the result," his old friend replied. She held up a scarf; it rippled against the breeze. "We shall be the sole spectators."

The Antagonistic Imp of Hostilia poked his head up out from Dark's tunic. It grinned as it fixed its gaze on the Shadow Lord. "You don't need no spectators, fairy boy," it whispered. "I got all the spectators you need riggght-"

A thick slap recoiled through the air as the Shadow Lord's fist met the Imp's chin. It rocked back and forth on Dark Link's shoulder, then fell flat on its face with a thud.

Dark Link gaped it shock. "But-!"

"Just me and you now, mate," the Shadow Lord replied, grinning.

Silence settled as everyone turned towards Saria. The little Kokiri stared back, her eyes blank and impassive. "Let this duel..." She let the cloth slip from her fingers. "...begin!"

There was the sound of shoes thudding against the ground, and they all looked up to see Chrysania running up the winding path to the field, her heels kicking up dust, her hood flapping in the breeze. Panting, she sidled up to Link's party and stood, her jade eyes wide. The Shadow Lord met her gaze, then mouthed 'I won't let them get you' and winked. Her face split into a grin in response.

"Trust you, good sir," Dark Link said, peering haughtily at the Shadow Lord, "to take the side of that evil spawn. It seems, as ever, I have to teach you the error of your misguided ways."

"She's just a little girl, mate, she's done no one any harm." Link's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. His eyes darted this way and that as he checked his surroundings: empty space ahead of him, a tree to one side and a misshaped boulder behind.

Dark stuck his nose in the air. "The stories I've heard about these Kokiri!" He shook his head. "Foul creatures, the lot of them. And _that_ girl is the worst – trust me, the Queen knows all and I am her confidante."

Link began to circle his opponent, carefully placing his feet in just the right place. "Well, that's the difference between you and me, sunshine," he retorted. "I'm not the one to make a judgement just because of a few stories."

"_They_ are different to us,"Dark replied, matching the Shadow Lord's movements.

"That's a crime now is it, mate?" Link feinted left, then right, Dark jerking into a defensive posture each time.

"It's not natural to stay so...so...so _childish_ for such a long time," Dark said. "Like these Kokiri. One must grow up one day."

His breathing shallow, his concentration funnelled on his opponent, Link felt the world fade except for him and the Dark One. "In my experience," he said between gritted teeth. "It's the children that often have a lot more of that little quality we call wisdom than those _pretending_ to be adults. Maybe because they see the world as it is, not as how we imagine it to be with all our little anxieties and hopes pricking at his from the corners of our mind. It's not natural to have that simple joy to life stripped away under the facade of what I'd laughably term as 'maturity.'"

Dark stopped short, a halo of sunlight crowning his head. "You, sir, are gravely mistaken."

They circled around each other once again, the tips of their swords kissing. Dark peered around to look at Link's weapon. "I see that you have constructed a new blade," he said. "You have indeed become powerful as I have foreseen."

The Shadow Lord paused, distracted. "What? What are you talking about?"

An explosion of movement followed as Link watched his mirror-image lunge in with a half-hearted thrust. The Shadow Lord parried it easily, his sword clinking against Dark's, then pushed his opponent back with a flurry of short strikes, intended more to test the Dark One than to harm him. Their blades slid apart, flashing, then the duo stood opposite each other once more.

Link cocked his head to one side, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Not bad, mate," he said. "You've been practising, I see."

Dark shrugged, grinning, a little colour rising to his cheeks. "Oh, you think so?" There seemed to be a flush of genuine surprise in his voice. "It's nothing, good sir, I assure you, I just like to work out once or twice in a-"

There was a rustle of a cloak, a whisper of a blade, and a blur of movement. Dark's words died in his mouth as he found himself cheek to blade with Link's sword. A drop of sweat rolled down his face, then plopped onto the polished steel making it shiver just a notch.

"I would've got you," the Shadow Lord said, grinning.

Dark twirled away, brining his sword around in a tight arc aimed for Link's flank. Relaxing his grip, the Shadow Lord let his blade swoop down to meet the attack. Steel rang out against steel, sparks spitting into the air, then Dark curved his weapon up, the tip screaming in for the Shadow Lord's face – and stopped short, the steel vibrating an inch from Link's nose.

Dark grinned. "No, you wouldn't have."

Link shoved him, then sprang into the air, flipping back as Dark lunged in with another attack. Landing on his feet, the Shadow Lord found himself driven back as the Dark One, arrogantly holding his blade with but one hand, thrust and withdrew with the fluid strikes of a scorpion whipping its tail in for the sting.

"Ha!" Dark crowed, his other hand on his hip. "Have at thee, fiend!"

Driven by pure instinct, the Shadow Lord of Castleton flung his sword up to block each attack, then ducked a swing and drove in with a riposte. Their blades locked, their contorted faces peering over at each other, touching almost nose-to-nose.

"I'll have you know, good sir," Dark said, trembling as he fought for an advantage in the deadlock, "that I am a better lover than I am a fighter!"

Link slipped, momentarily distracted, and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "_Why_ are you telling _me_ this?"

They twirled apart, their blades disengaging with a metallic shimmer. "_And,_" the Shadow Lord said, "Link – the tremendously dashing Shadow Lord of Castleton – jumps onto a boulder, propels himself into the air and - simply splendid! – _just_ misses the top of the sap's scalp with a rather tasty arc for the head. _Ooh la la_, the wenches will be fainting over that one. And here comes Link again – can you believe the tenacity of this man? – diving under that somewhat pathetic attack from the sap – really, Tingle could do better – rides the momentum, then drives a sharp elbow straight into his opponent's face."

Dark screamed, reeling back as he held his now bloody nose.

"And did you hear the crack on _that _one, mates?" Link said, grinning. "That just echoed around the arena." He paused, then, "Had there been an arena, that is."

Glaring over the ruined remains of his nose, the Dark Lord shook his head in bewilderment. "_What_ are you doing, good sir?"

"Oh, and would you hark at that? The boy – and I use that term in the loosest sense, you understand – still lives." The Shadow Lord licked his lips, sword at the ready. "Let's take a look at Link's opponent today – though, we all know you'd all rather take a look at the splendid specimen of heroism that is the Shadow Lord himself. Mr Dark is sporting a rather fetching frilly silk tunic – a big hit with the ladies of fashion, no doubt – so frilly that you expect him to wear it _under_ normal clothes and not outside. _And –_ while the boy is severely in want of many things, the most glaring of his deficiencies is that he lacks a Splendid Green Hat. Even Tingle wears a hat, and compared to this sap, Tingle is a true man!"

Dark growled. "_Why_ are you referring to yourself as though you were not the one whom is speaking?"

"I think the term is 'in the third-person', mate," Link replied. "And this is what is known as a running commentary." He winked. "Adds to the drama."

With a bellow of rage, the Dark One lunged in with a clumsy attack. Link sidestepped easily, then shoved his mirror-image in the back. Watching the Dark One stumble, the Shadow Lord felt his spirits rise immensely – the bravado and the taunts had all been a calculated ploy, of course. He knew that since they had virtually the same skills, they would not be able to outmatch the other. Link had to make Dark lose his focus, had to make him break his concentration.

Dark realised it at exactly the same instant. Wiping his brow with his sleeve, he cautiously waved his sword ahead of him. He pulled back a few steps. "Do you know," he said, "how hard it is for me to be referred as 'Dark?'"

The Shadow Lord tested his opponent with a jab; Dark brushed it aside, their swords clattering. "I'd blame your parents," Link said. "But I don't think you have any."

"I know I'm not that much of a 'Hero'," he said. "I know deep down that I'm worthless, that everything is beautiful and light apart from me." He swung in with a slice aimed at the Shadow Lord's legs; Link gracefully flipped out of the way. "But do I need to be constantly reminded of that because of my name?"

"It amazes me the amount of people I encounter who insist on making themselves miserable because of the phantasms in their own head." Realising the Dark One wasn't listening, the Shadow Lord decided to try a different approach – he lied. "I'm sure you're a good chap deep down." He feinted left, feinted again, then spun his blade up and around to cut at Dark's head; the Dark One caught the attack, then tried thrust a knee into Link's midsection. The Shadow Lord rode the blow, slamming his head into Dark's chin, then shoving him back yet again.

Dark Link glared, thin rivulets of blood webbing his chin with a crimson net. "I'm not, I assure you!" He lunged in with a strike aimed for Link's shoulder; the Shadow Lord twirled away with liquid speed, then hit a stiff riposte as Dark tried to follow-up with another attack. Dark, breathing heavily, stepped back, bringing his blade to bear. "I know what people say about me. I know the foul things they mutter behind my back."

"Have you actually heard them yourself, mate?" the Shadow Lord asked, his eyes searching for an opening. "If not, then I'd suggest you not listen to the whispers of your own self – if we really think about it, deep inside our imaginations always manage to come up with the most pessimistic of futures for ourselves."

Dark spat. "And this coming from you?" he growled. "After all the things you say about me?"

"At least I have the guts to say it to your face, mate," Link replied. "That's assuming that other people really are as obsessed with you as you seem to think they – or that they think of you are as much as you clearly think about yourself."

Dark hesitated and in that heartbeat of frozen time, the Shadow Lord pounced, one foot in front of the other as he stabbed in with a precise thrust. Dark gasped, catching the attack at the very last moment and only just managing to swat Link's sword aside.

"I'll have you know that I had a life!" Dark cried, the cords of muscle in his face straining against the skin. "I even got married. Yes, that's right good sir, I had a wife, too!"

"You surprise me."

"But she died!" Dark was almost screaming now. "Two years ago she died!"

"I'm terribly sorry," the Shadow Lord replied. "Suicide, was it?"

Dark did scream now - in pure rage. "That's it, good sir, you've pushed me around long enough," he said. "It just so happens that I had a chance encounter with a head of a Stalfos that you may well be familiar with."

Link cocked an eyebrow. "That would actually explain a lot, mate."

"And you know what I learnt from him?" Dark replied, ignoring the Shadow Lord. "A Spell of Summoning!"

Muttering incantations under his breath, Dark Link grinned as the air became thick and the sky suddenly darkened. Screams rang out as the earth split apart beneath his feet, a jagged yawning mouth opening wider and wider. The ground rumbled, then shook. A fierce burning wind roared from the depths, then, with achingly-slow deliberation, the bubbling molten tip of an immense volcano peeked out from the crack, angrily spitting out charred black rocks that ploughed into the ground, churning up grit and soil.

Framed against this chaotic background, a spray of red sparks pluming up behind him, Dark Link threw back his head and cackled. The Shadow Lord watched, mouth agape, as the volcano rose higher and higher into the air, its immense bulk blocking out the sun as sizzling rocks tumbled down its slopes. "Egads..." he gasped, before diving behind the nearby boulder. Burning projectiles of magma and ash rained down upon him, tearing into the land with a roar. Crouching, teeth clenched as his heart spiked in his chest, Link could hear the tree that he'd spotted earlier implode as something struck it, tiny fragments of ash and burnt bark catching on the breeze and flying into his face. "Insane...bleedin insane!"

He glanced over at his friends, saw them huddling against each other at the edge of the field. That's when he realised that they were relatively safe, that the volcano's attacks were precise and pinpoint, aimed just at him. For a moment he considered running for it, then stopped himself – Dark would make the volcano track his movements and then he'd put the others in danger, too.

Waves of heat beat at his back, a harsh and bitter pounding that drilled into his bones and thrummed into his head. Wispy fingers of smoke clawed at him, stinging his eyes and making him choke. His head swam. His heart kicked against his chest, protesting. His eyelids grew heavy, and he could see pure blackness seep in through the corners of vision. "No," he gasped. He forced one last image into his mind, one last thing for him to cling to. The Princess' smiling face, ghostly and still lined with her scar, gazed back at him from his heart's eye.

Ground trembling under his feet, the air filling with the acrid stench of sulphur, the Shadow Lord of Castleton let his head roll so that he faced his friends once more, then shouted over the din. "A little help would be appreciated here!"

Navi dared to swoop in a little closer, dodging spinning flecks of burning rock all the while. "What can we do?" she cried, her eyes glistening with concern under the tinted sky.

"You tell me, love!" Link roared as the very air rumbled. "You're the one with the sage advice whenever I'm dropped into these ever-so-dangerous situations!"

Navi whirled around and around, her wings buzzing with frantic worry. "Uhmmm...Uhmmm," she muttered. "Hey! Link!"

"_Yes?"_

"Find cover!"

Link flinched as a solitary shard of molten flint ricocheted off the boulder and streaked past his cheek. "I _am_ behind cover, love!" Smoke began to sizzle off of his tunic, the fabric unravelling as the heat ate through it. His hair clung to his scalp due to the sweat pouring down his face. "Come on, love!" he shouted. "I know you can do it! I know you must have _something_! Some overlooked little fact you always manage to pop out in the midst of battle!"

"Uhmmm...uhmmm," said Navi, her tiny drenched face scrunched up. "Something I always pop out in the midst of..." She stopped short, her eyes lighting up. She snapped her fingers in delight. "Hey! Link!"

"_Yes?"_ said Link, clutching his hat as sparks tumbled down from above.

"Listen!"

"_Yes!"_

"Hit it on its weak spot!"

Link stared at the Fairy. "It. Is. A. Bloody. Volcano. It. Does. Not. Have. Any. Bloody. Weak. Spots."

And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the churning chaos stopped. Warm sunlight beat down on the swaying grass once more. Gasping for breath, the Shadow Lord dared to take a peek over the edge of the boulder. Dark Link stood alone, looking forlorn and having the grace to seem somewhat embarrassed, all trace of the volcano gone save for one solitary wisp of black smoke curling from the edge of his raised finger. Dark shrugged sheepishly. "I haven't quite perfected the spell yet."

His strength returning in a surge, Link sprang on top of the boulder, crouched, then somersaulted into the air. He landed, sword flashing in the sun, then came to a stop, the tip of his blade brushing against Dark's throat. The Dark One was already tensing, ready to swing in with a defensive strike – Link wasn't about to let him, though. He needed to get through the man's skin and make him slip once again. "You, mate," said the Shadow Lord, "are not only the wettest of all saps, but you are, if I may say, dressed in something that Tingle would probably buy from an old maiden, then be too embarrassed to wear in public himself – and _and_ you are the most worthless amateur magician in the whole of Hyrule. Volcano? I bet you were trying to summon killer rabbits from your non-existent hat, weren't you, mate?"

Snarling now, Dark brushed aside Link's sword, then threw himself at the Shadow Lord once more. Link, grinning, parried the attack, coolly swivelled on his heels, then kicked the Dark One to the ground. Rocking on the balls of his feet, the Shadow Lord brought his sword to bear. Dark's head snapped up, a knowing glint in his eye. "Tell me something, good sir," he spat. "Are we not also fighting for the honour of your lady love, too?" A sickly grin spread over his face. "Oh, but wait. Such a one as Princess Zelda has no honour. I'm sure you were the last in line to taste the sweetness of her company. Why, I heard the whole of Hyrule – myself included – had already been showered with her affection before _you_ stepped in."

Link felt his chest tighten with rage. He knew he should keep his cool. He knew that the words were just lies, that Dark knew what he knew, and wanted to put him off-guard just like the Shadow Lord had thrown the Dark One off his concentration, too. He knew-

"In fact, good sir," Dark went on, pulling himself steadily to his feet. "It would seem now that you only now enjoy her when she is well past her prime – a broken face and a pathetic excuse for an intellect no doubt satisfies someone of dubious tastes such as your good self."

Eyes narrowed, his body crouched in an attack stance, Link stared over the tip of his sword at the Dark One. "Mate," he growled in a whisper. "No one mocks the Princess...except me!"

Dark almost snarled in triumph as the Shadow Lord came at him, blade swinging blindly. Digging his heels in, the Dark One kept his footing, deftly blocking and dodging every rage-fuelled strike Link threw at him. Dark's heart soared – he had regained the advantage and any minute now the Shadow Lord would make a fatal mistake. The clang of metal against metal rang out over the field, and the onlookers saw nothing but a blur of ferocious movement as the Dark One kept Link at bay, swinging his sword here, curling it up there, blocking, dodging, whirling. Any minute now. Any...minute...now...

Dark's mouth dropped open in horror as he found himself shoved back, the Shadow Lord lunging in with precise thrusts and elegant strikes that arced through the air like liquid. His sword now flashing in quick bursts as though he held a bolt of lightning made metal, Link drove onwards, anger propelling his every movement. It wasn't anger for his own sake, though – no, that would be arrogance of the highest order and he _hoped_ that he'd left _that_ side of him behind long ago. No, it was anger in defence of the honour of those absent. Anger in defence of the Princess' honour. _His _Princess' honour.

The Shadow Lord drove one foot into the earth, then coiled the muscles in his other leg. The momentum threw him forward, and he sliced in with a razor-sharp arc that would have slit the very air itself. His sword found Dark's, and sent it flying. He landed, flipped his blade in the air, caught it by its flat end, then drove the hilt into Dark Link's face. Dazed, the Dark One fell to his knees, defeated.

In the huddle at the far side of the field, Simon DeLance leaned in close to the other spectators. "Do you think if I challenged him to a duel he'd finish me off once and for all?"

Mr C buzzed by his ear. "If you don't quit your whining, fool," he said, pulling an arrow free from his quiver. "I'll make you fall in love. How would you like that, sucka? Hmm?"

Staggering back, Simon's mouth fell open, aghast at the suggestion. "By all that is Holy, no!"

Back in the centre of the field, Link stood over the Dark One, his sword at his opponent's throat once more. "Let this be a lesson to you, mate," he said. "As a wise man once said : wearing frilly undergarments as normal clothes is the sure path to true defeat."

Dark glared up at him, defiant. "I would retort, good sir, that he who wears the most ridiculous of green hats has no place to criticise the attire of others."

"My, my, the insults are flying now, aren't they, sunshine?" The Shadow Lord raised an eyebrow. "That's twice you've deeply offended me – maybe I should just put an end to you right here."

Dark snorted in disgust. "You couldn't put an end to a Fairy in a bottle, good sir, even if you tried. In fact, I'd wager the only thing that shrinks in fear from you, good sir, is the good women of Hyrule after they see your hideous complexion. No match for mine, of course."

"What? What? Are you insane, mate? We look exactly the same!"

Dark scowled. "Only in your wildest imaginations, good sir. I assure you that we look nothing alike."

"Are you mad?" Link's eyes were bulging now. "Did getting trapped in the Water Temple knock out your senses? Oh, wait – I've always wanted to know how you escaped from that particular little inconvenience, if you'd be so kind to indulge me."

"I escaped solely by relying on my own wits and superior intelligence."

Link sheathed his sword, then folded his arms across his chest, looking distinctly unimpressed. "No, _really._"

Dark's head dropped and he mumbled something under his breath as he cast furtive glances here and there.

"I'm terribly sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

Clearing his throat, his eyes burning with shame, Dark beckoned for the Shadow Lord to come closer. Link craned his neck, and the sound of furious whispering followed, carrying in the air. The Shadow Lord looked up, shocked. "No!"

Dark had the grace to look suitably sheepish. "Yes."

"What," the Shadow Lord continued, "with the fish?"

"Yes," Dark mumbled. "The fish."

"Surely not the turtle, too?"

Dark looked extremely uncomfortable. "Yes, the turtle, too."

Link took a step back, one hand rubbing his chin, and shook his head. "You sick, sick man."

A scream of rage cut through their conversation. The Shadow Lord glanced up, his eyes widening as he saw the bolt of pure, quivering fury that was the Fairy Queen herself bearing down on him. At the last possible moment he dived, his prized headgear floating in the air where his hair had just been. He plucked it out of the air, growling. "Hey!" he spat. "Watch out for the hat, woman!"

Another scream – this one curdled with fear – followed. Link sprang to his feet, just in time to see Navi struggling in the Queen's grasp, a tiny knife at her neck. Her pleading eyes found Link's, her miniscule body heaving with strain as she fought to break free.

"Nobody move," the Queen said, her voice like molten metal. "I _will_ have a slave to do my bidding – and this little one shall be it." Link made to leap forward, but the Queen pushed the knife in closer. "Ah ah!" she spat, her lips curled in a cruel grin. "We shall now be leaving. I apologise for the melodrama, but I like to be direct and to the point – if anyone tries anything, I kill her, and then I'll just have to find another slave." Waves of fat jiggled as she laughed.

Powerless, his hands curling and uncurling with rage, the Shadow Lord of Castleton watched as the Queen floated off into the morning sky, a helpless Navi dragged along behind her.


	10. Captive Trees

**10 – Captive Trees**

Little Princess Zelda found herself wading through a mist of pure darkness that stretched off towards the horizon as though infinite and, at the same time, manage to cling to her as though suffocating. It was cold here. Cold and empty. Chewing on the end of one thumbnail, the little Princess blinked her wide blue eyes; once, twice. Still the darkness remained.

A voice ghosted out from the emptiness. "You're a good girl, aren't you, Zelda?"

The Princess beamed. It was her mother! "Yes!" Zelda squealed happily. "I'm going to be the goodest girl in the whole world!" Her mother laughed, a warm, light sound that made the Princess' heart tingle. She could feel her mother beside her, but still couldn't see her. If it wasn't for all this silly darkness! Zelda turned in the direction where she supposed the Queen was standing. "And then you'll love me, won't you?"

Her mother laughed again, and Zelda felt soft lips brush against her brow. "I love you anyway!" her mother replied, her voice thick with both affection and amusement. Zelda giggled, beaming once more – her mother's words sent pure warmth flooding into her heart which then ran like honey through her whole body.

And then her mother was gone, leaving only a hole of cold emptiness in the murk. The corners of Zelda's mouth turned down. "No..." But hadn't her mother been gone for a long time now? Hadn't that hole really been a part of her heart not the darkness? And hadn't she carried it every day since her mother had...had...? Her face crinkled as she tried to pound at her mind. Why couldn't she remember?

A thin sliver of light split the darkness. Little Zelda watched as the light rose higher and higher, stretching and unwinding until, set before her feet illuminated by a misty indigo glow, a flight of stairs curled down into the dark depths. The Princess hesitated, shrugged, then tentatively made her way down, skipping all the way. The ghostly light, tinted purple and midnight blue, curled around her legs, tickling her.

"I'm going to be the goodest girl in the whole world," she breathed to herself. Suddenly this was the most important thing in her life. Nothing else mattered except that she be good. "I promise!"

Zelda stopped short as a swirl of myriad light appeared above her head. She waited patiently as the whirlpool of colour steadied itself, forming into the face of a young man with a cruel glint in his eye. The little Princess frowned. She was sure she should remember this person. He was a...a...a nobleman! A young man! And he'd come to the Palace when she was just...fifteen? That couldn't be right. She wasn't even fifteen now! Zelda sighed – why was her mind all muddled up?

"Lock the door behind you, Princess," the young nobleman said, his voice husky. There was a feverish look to his face and a film of sweat glistened on his skin. "We can play...we'd be quick, no-one would know."

"No, thank you," little Zelda said matter-of-factly. She didn't quite understand what the young man wanted, but knew she didn't want to be a part of it. "I'm a good girl."

"Oh, come now," the nobleman went on, as though he hadn't heard her. "Surely you don't think I have any bad intentions, do you?"

The little Princess looked up thoughtfully. "You look bad," she declared. "I don't like bad people."

Anger flashed on the man's face. "And what if I make you, hmm? What then?"

Little Zelda's fists curled. "You look like you want to hurt people!" She was shrieking in her tiny voice. "I'm going to stop all bad people like you! I promise!"

There was a flash of light and then the Princess found a short, stubby sword in her hand.

"Hey, come now," the nobleman said. "There's no need for-"

Zelda waved the sword in a furiously wild flutter. There was a crack of glass from above, then a scream and when she looked up next the young nobleman was gone. All she could hear were unfamiliar voices asking her what was going on, and asking after her well-being. She didn't even pause to think about what had just happened. Dropping the weapon, Zelda turned away, then trotted down the last flight of stairs. Slowing down, her hand flying to her chest, the little Princess gasped as she spied a man huddled on the ground at the foot of the staircase. She gingerly took a few steps towards him and. after satisfying herself that it wasn't the young nobleman, she peered down in concern.

"Are you hurt?" she said. The man groaned in response and, without even thinking about it, Zelda's mouth curved down into a sympathetic frown. Crouching, she pushed with all her strength until she managed to turn him over. Blond hair and blue eyes gazed back at her. Zelda blinked. "I think I know you... Her head hurt. "...do I?"

The man pulled himself up into a sitting position. "Could you pull this thorn from my foot? I hurt my arms and can't reach."

The Princess gazed down at the man's injured limb, then grimaced as she saw the large, blood-soaked stake that was peeking out from his boot. "Oh, dear!" she gasped, wincing in sympathy.

Curling both her tiny hands around the stick she pulled and pulled until she finally fell on her rear when it came free. She looked at the stake with disgust, then threw it away. It clattered in the darkness.

"Thank you," the man said. "You're truly very kind."

Zelda felt her cheeks burn and so she cast her gaze at the ground. As the man slowly staggered to his feet, the Princess stood up, too, reaching out to steady him. "Where am I?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Princess Zelda," the man said, smiling. He seemed to have completely healed in just a heartbeat. "I think I owe you an explanation."

The Princess blinked. "You know my name."

The man with the blond hair and blue eyes said nothing. He reached into a pouch on his belt, pulled free a green hat, then set it upon his head. "Welcome," he said, glancing back at her with a wink, "to my mind."

"Your mind?" The little Princess shuffled forward as the man began to walk on.

"Yes...yes. This, everything you see around you, is a construct of my mind."

Zelda looked around uncertainly. "This horrible darkness?"

The man threw back his head and laughed. "Ah...no...well, yes. I haven't actually got around to decorating the place yet." He looked at her again, a wry grin on his face. "You see, this is my home away from home. The only people I let in here are those who wish to come in, and those whom I invite."

"Invite?" Her already tiny voice sounded even more diminutive in the vast, churning gloom.

"Yes." The man cleared his throat noisily. "Via a...ah...special serum."

_Poison._ The word burned into the Princess' mind. She didn't understand what it meant fully, but something dark clawed at her heart and memories. _He poisoned you and brought you here. _

And then as soon as it had appeared, another thought forced its way into her mind: _Poison? Don't be silly. It's just your imagination. He's a good man._

Stopping short, the man spun around on his heels gracefully. "Here," he said. "I have power. Here, I – well, let me show you." He stepped aside. Zelda shrank back in fear as an immense cloaked figure stood there, its face skeletal, one bony hand curled around a weapon that was topped off with a curved half-moon ring of steel.

"What is that?" the Princess asked, her voice hushed. "_Who _is that?"

"This, my dear," the man replied ominously, his eyes dark, "is the Big Grim."

She looked at him, her own eyes wide. "The Big Grim?"

"Death himself."

Little Princess Zelda looked from the Big Grim to the man and then back to the Big Grim again. She scrunched her eyes up as she stared and stared and – "No, it's _not,_" she said. "It's just a Stalfos dressed up in a cloak and holding a scy-...a scy-...a sharp thing." She giggled in relief as the Big Grim had the grace to look away, abashed. "Silly pumpkinhead!"

The man smiled. "I can see that nothing can get past you, my dear." He snapped his fingers and the Big Grim vanished. Seeing Zelda gasp, he smiled again. "Oh, don't worry. Like I said, it is I who is in control here." He snapped his fingers once more and a banquet table laden with fruits and sweets sprang out of the murky shadow. Two chairs slid out from the table. "Come, sit."

After a moment of trepidation, Zelda sat herself down – and found that she was a fully-grown adult once again. She gazed down at herself, saw that she was dressed in her old Sheikah garb, sans the mask.. "What...?"

"All in good time, my love," the man replied. He smiled as the Princess looked up at him with a frown. "But we haven't been properly introduced. You, of course, are the fair Princess Zelda while I..." Another more nervous smile ghosted across his face. "I am Link, Hero of Time."

A knot of pain throbbed over Zelda's brow. "Link...?" she whispered. "I know that name..."

"Sssh..." the man who called himself Link replied. Zelda swallowed as she waited for him to continue. He was gazing at her with such intensity that eventually she had to look away. "Let me explain." He leaned back in his chair. "As you know from experience, there are worlds upon worlds in every reality – worlds which are exact copies of the world we call home, save for minute differences, worlds with other Links and other Zeldas. I understand that you yourself have travelled through a few."

Had she? The dull throb in her head became a spike of pure needle-like pain. It sounded familiar, but she just couldn't remember.

Seeing that she wasn't going to reply, Link went on. "I am from one of those worlds. In my...reality...I committed a terrible terrible crime, something I'm dearly sorry for now, something I have truly atoned for me, believe me. My punishment was that I was to be sent into the very distant past – it worked, save that I had to flee and, as I did so, I found a crystal that acted as a portal between worlds. They sent me back, but not as far as they would have liked – I stopped at a certain time period thanks to my crystal and then I jumped from place to place, from one reality to another, from one time to another time...until I came here." He looked around him, his expression thoughtful. "This Hyrule...for some reason, here I only exist within my mind, while in other places, I existed as a physical person." He glanced at her. "No, don't try to think about, I can't make sense of it myself." His eyes glistened as he smiled. "Here within my mind is everything that I need – me, the crystal...and now, you."

"Me?"

Link smiled once more, reaching over to take her hand in his. He began to stroke her skin and Zelda had to fight the urge to pull away – his touch was ice-cold and, besides, it didn't feel right. If only she just knew exactly _why_.

"I've watched you in my travels," Link said slowly with a lick of his lips. His leaned in close as his voice dropped. Zelda kept her back straight and her gaze level, though all she wanted to do was run. "It's true that all the Zeldas I've encountered have a share of that purity that makes you all unique. But you...you..." He shook his head. "Do you know how rare it is for a person to dedicate themselves not to the fulfilment of their own needs, but simply to just lead a virtuous life? Do you know how precious it is? _You,_ Zelda, are a precious jewel..."

"Oh!" She was flattered despite her misgivings.

A pained expression crossed the man's face and, strangely enough, Zelda found herself wincing inwardly with pity. He clearly wanted to say something, but didn't know how to. "You..." he said. "You're the...the..."

The words came to her lips, unbidden. "The goodest?"

Link laughed. "Yes...you're the 'best', indeed." His gaze grew intense again. "And this is why I need you, my dear. I _love_ you. Come into this darkness and spread your light." His eyes were pleading now, his voice insistent. "Let yourself fall into my embrace."

A whisper of disquiet flitted through the Princess' head. She'd heard those words before. She'd heard that _voice _before. Had it been this Link who had been interfering in her dreams?

And then another thought came to her: _What dreams? What words? What voice?_

Zelda looked up at him and almost gasped. So close to her, his face seemed to be illuminated, radiant, his features so handsome that, in spite of herself, she felt heat rise to her face, her heart thumping.

"Do you know why I love you?" Link asked.

Zelda heard herself reply in a breathless whisper. "Why?"

"Because, my love, you truly are the most honourable, honest and virtuous person that has ever lived. I need you. _I need you._ I'll fill your life with a love that will lift you into the clouds and will never let you down."

Zelda's mouth went completely dry. There was nothing now. Nothing except her and this beautiful stranger, this man who promised to love her simply because she was good. Tears came to her eyes. "I...I don't know..."

"I'll love you like no other."

"There is no other." She blinked. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong with what she'd just said.

The man called Link moved away from her and Zelda almost whimpered, sadness flooding her heart. "You don't have any children, do you?" he asked. When she shook her head, he said, "Then look what I've brought for you."

His smile widened into a grin and, from the shadows, a gaggle of young Hylian children ran out, laughing and squealing as they surrounded her chair. "Stay with us!" one of them said. "We love you, Princess!" said another.

Zelda gazed around at all the smiling faces and she felt her heart catch in her chest. "I...I don't know what to..."

Link fixed her with shining eyes. "You'd be so loved here that you won't need anyone or anything else. Look! I brought one of your friends!" He gestured up to a golden cage hanging at a distance where, inside, a solitary Fairy lay slumped against the bars. The Fairy saw Zelda and gasped. "Hey!" she said. "Princess! We have to-"

"Who is-"

Link snapped his fingers and the Fairy's voice vanished, though her lips kept on going. "One of my associates found her," he said. He took Zelda's hand once again, raised it to his lips and left the tiniest hint of a kiss. "Oh, and don't worry about her name, it'll come back to you, I promise."

Zelda gazed at the cage, her heart wanting to savour both the touch of his lips on her hand and the laughs of the children, her mind protesting. "Why is she imprisoned?"

Link cleared his throat. "We must hurry, Princess," he said, ignoring her question. "My enemy – a bad man – is coming."

Zelda, trying to split her attention between Link and the children, blinked up at him. "What does he want?"

"He has two purposes. One, he wishes to take some treasure from me, and two, he wishes to split us apart, to destroy our love."

"Don't let him do that!" one of the children cried, his face anguished.

"Stay here with us!" another added, tears in her eyes.

Zelda swallowed. Every inch of her soul wanted to relent, to give in and let herself be swallowed by the whirlpool of love that tugged at her – and yet, there was one small corner of her deepest self that stood up in protest. Something was amiss here. Something was _wrong._ "What," she said, "is this treasure that you speak of?"

Link gestured dismissively. "It is nothing, my love. Don't trouble yourself over it."

"Can I see it?"

"No." She almost jumped at the abruptness in his voice. Seeing her discomfort, Link smiled and softened his voice. "Come, my love. You said it yourself, there is no other. Choose...do you wish to stay or go? Choose." He began stroking her hand again and she noted once again at how ice-cold his touch was. "I'm just like you, my love. All I wanted...was to do good and be loved."

A sudden memory seared into the Princess' mind. A voice from the past, a voice that said: _The only reason you bother to help other people is so that you can feel good about yourself. That isn't true righteousness!_ She almost flinched at the anger in that voice and yet, at the same time, a part of her yearned to look deep past the anger, to look at the pain that had caused such bitterness and then smother it so that the person – whoever it was – could become whole once again. Become the person she always knew he was.

Zelda blinked. _He?_

"Choose, my love," Link said. "Forget the promptings of your thoughts. These are just doubts to waylay you from the path of true happiness. You'll be happy here. You can take care of the children and do good here. You'll be loved. You'll do good and be loved. Choose, my darling, choose."

The Princess looked from the children's smiling, beaming faces, their eyes pleading, to Link's handsome and confident demeanour. She felt the children clutch at her tunic as though they could physically make her stay. She felt Link's gaze upon her, felt the yearning and love that burned in his eyes.

Zelda smiled. And when she opened her mouth to reply, the man who called himself Link could do nothing else but grin.


	11. Excellent

**11 – Excellent **

Saria pushed the vines away from the dark gap of an entrance, letting a dank, musty smell into the slanted sunlight. "This is it," she said softly. "This is how you get into the Temple."

Link stepped ahead of his group, his sword clinking in its sheath, then waved away small clouds of dust before peering inside. An ominous gloom, framed by withered leaves and muddy coloured vines, stared back at him. "And, to think, you knew a way in all along."

Saria cocked her head slightly, and smiled.

The Shadow Lord moved to enter – then paused. What would Zelda have done in a situation like this? Oh, yes. "Love," he said. "I'd just like to thank you for all your help. This other entrance is a time saver – we can get both the Princess and Navi back far more quickly now." He smiled at her. "Hope there's no hard feelings or anything."

Saria raised an eyebrow. "You're thanking me?" She smiled. "Well, this _is_ a turn-up now, isn't it? And, anyway, I should be apologising to you. I'm not too proud of the way I behaved."

Link shrugged. "Nothing to worry about, don't worry. Oh, and...ah..." What else would Zelda have done? Ah, that was it. "Thanks for everything. _Everything. _If you're ever in need of anything, just drop by Castleton and say the word, love."

"Stop it, Link," Saria said softly, her smile still in place. "You're making it sound as though you're not coming back."

The Shadow Lord grinned. "Look after the little love, won't you?"

"Chrysania?" Saria asked. "Of course. I'll see to it personally."

"And the wretched foul spawn of rabid cuccos?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Dark Link."

"Oh, him," said Saria. "Don't worry. We've banished him and his little friend." She glanced up at Hawthorne. "Our Fairy here helped – she put a circle of Fairy Dust around the village. No-one will be bothering us for a while."

Hawthorne fluttered happily in the air. "The least I could do, no doubt."

The Shadow Lord glanced at the new entrance. "The Fairy Queen is in there, is she, love?" He had to look away instantly – the darkness was tugging at him, threatening to pull him in and swallow him whole. "Along with Navi and the Treasure?"

"Yes," Saria nodded. Concern lit up her eyes and she reached over to cling at the Shadow Lord's sleeve. "Be careful, Link. All of you. There's some sort of ...sort of...Guardian in there. A powerful one. We don't where he came from or when – but he rules the Temple; some say he has the power to manipulate whatever is in it."

Clumps of dirt fell from the top of the entrance as the Shadow Lord left his palm to rest there. "It always has to be the Guardian of Doom, doesn't it?" he muttered under his breath.

Simon DeLance shuffled forward, craning on his toes to peek into the entrance. "You mean...there's something dangerous in there?"

Saria pursed her lips, her expression grim. "I'm afraid so."

"If it isn't giant spiders," the Shadow Lord was saying, slipping into his own little world, "then it's dragons or the pure insanity given form known as Bongo-Bongo – though I can't really blame that one for going mental, now can I? Can you imagine that? Can you even comprehend that? You – mad evil genius that you are – have just looked on in awe as you've just procured the most vilest, foulest creature this side of a cucco reunion hosted by Kaepora Gaebora himself and you say to yourself, 'I know! I'll call it Bongo-Bongo! That's just perfect!'" Link shook his head. "The mind boggles."

"You mean," Simon went on, looking at Saria, "we could die?"

"Don't worry," she replied, smiling sadly. "You'll be safe so long as you all just work together."

"Think of it as an adventure, old chap," Mr Red piped in, slapping the younger man on the back. "What?"

"An adventure?" Simon felt sweat spring up on his face. His breathing became shallow. "Didn't you hear what she said? We could die! Painfully!"

An undead hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Oh, it's not too bad," the ReDead said. "You just have to go with the flow."

"I mean, just for once," the Shadow Lord muttered on, oblivious, "I'd like the thing to be guarded by the Not-Quite-Frightening-And-Really-Rather-Shy Deku Nut of Relative Danger or even the It'll-Give-You-What-You-Want-So-Long-As-You-Ask-Nicely Monster Too Scared to Face You." He shook his head again.

"Go with the flow?" Simon snapped. "What kind of flow would that be, then? A lava flow? A flow of a river hurtling on towards a waterfall of certain death? I'm sure we'll be encountering both!"

"Magma," said Saria.

"What?" cried Simon.

"You won't see any lava," she explained. "It's magma when it's inside. It's lava when it's outside."

"You know what?" the Shadow Lord continued. "It's Kaepora, I'm sure of it. I'm certain the little blighter goes around the Temples _just_ before I go in, drops in one his no doubt ill-begotten offspring, then flies off cackling 'mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaa!' and _then_ he comes and finds me and spouts off some cucco droppings about 'Oh, but if you'd only learn to believe in yourself and follow your heart within, you would find what you need the conquer the darkness without.'" The Shadow Lord's lip curled in contempt. "Oh _yes_, Mr Kaepora. I'm _sure_ that when I'm facing a fifty-foot monstrosity that _you_ put in my path that all I need to do is look at myself and say 'Hey! I believe in me!' and then look into my heart, which, if it hasn't stopped from sheer terror at that point, would be telling me to run for the hills and not to look back."

"I thought you wanted to die, anyway," Hawthorne asked.

"Yes," Simon replied, flustered. "But not painfully!"

"Oh, for the love of..."

"I'm sure Kaepora's rubbing his hands in glee even as we speak," Link said, glancing at the sky as though he could catch the culprit in the act itself. He thought about his words for a moment, then added, "That is, if he had any hands."

Simon frowned, his throat tightening as he gazed at the darkened entrance. "So, we're really going in there, then?"

"Oh, I'll get that owl one day, you see that I don't." The Shadow Lord, apparently, was still in a world of his own making. "I just can't _wait_ to see his face when I tie his little wings together, gag his beak, and then drop him in a cage full of starved cuccos while I sit back and laugh and laugh and laugh. Let's see you believe yourself and get out of _that_, mate. Let's see you follow your heart now, sunshine – oh, whoops! There _goes_ your heart, trapped between the yawning jaws of cucco death itself."

"I _said_," Simon cut in, irritated, "Are we going in _there_?"

Link snapped back to reality. "Are we afraid of the dark now, Mr DeLance?"

Scowling, Simon shook his head. "I'll do what we have to, to get our little Fairy friend back."

"Friend?" The Shadow Lord raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Surprised you're even familiar with the concept."

Turning away before he could see Simon's reaction, Link looked one last time towards Saria. "Not coming with us, love?"

"I'll be waiting," she replied. "Be careful."

The Shadow Lord nodded, then led the others into the tunnel. Warm air tinged with the scent of decay stroked their faces and disturbed their tunics. The ground beneath was soft and spongy, crackling with every footfall. The walls were damp and narrow, their movements echoing in the dim light. Up ahead, the path opened up to reveal one burning torch standing beside two darkened ones, all three of which were set outside a solid rock wall.

"This one's easy, what?" Mr Red piped in.

"Agreed," Link replied. "Use this last remaining torch to set the other two alight. The door – the wall – should open as a result." Frowning, he began to peer down at the ground. "There should be a Deku Stick around here somewhere – oh, _thank you_, Kaepora, for conveniently leaving that lying around. Next time why don't you just leave the bleedin door open like any sane intelligent being would?"

"Found it!" Hawthorne's voice reverberated around the cavern. She tugged at the stick, pulling it free from the mud and sending tiny crawling insects scuttling for cover. She threw it up to Mr C who caught it deftly then handed it over to the Shadow Lord. Link, in turn, passed it on to the Trapsnapper.

Mr Red poked the stick into the remaining fire, waited for it to smoulder and burn, then hurried over to the other two torches, pushed the stick into the oil and watched them both catch alight with tiny _whoomphs_. The little group huddled, waiting. Nothing happened. They waited some more. Still nothing happened.

"Hmmm," said Hawthorne. "I don't think-"

There was a creak. Then something snapped. With a shudder, the ground beneath them rose, soil and dust falling like rain from the new platform. It floated magically in the air.

"We're all going to die, aren't we?" asked Simon.

"Mr DeLance," the Shadow Lord replied, irritated. "I would appreciate it if you would just-"

With a sharp sigh the wall ahead slid upwards to reveal a curling passageway illuminated by dancing tendrils of flame. Link's eyes widened as the others huddled even closer behind them. "Yes," he said. "We're all going to die."

A burst of roaring flame exploded out of the passageway. "Oh, _mate," _Link whispered. "Kaepora, I take it all back, sunshine. Whatever I said, I didn't mean it."

"Um." It was Hawthorne again. "There's a bubble of...of...of magic around the platform! We Fairies can't get out!"

With a sudden gust of air the platform flew straight into the passageway, then spiralled downwards, spinning around and around, the Shadow Lord and his crew screaming as a roar of flame raged in their ears. They flung themselves flat down upon the flying platform itself, teeth clenched, their fingers digging into the earth.

"Fire!" screamed Simon as a fountain of bubbling sparks criss-crossed in the air above them.

"Duck!" cried Link, the platform shaking as they all pushed deeper into its soil-shrouded surface.

Tears in his eyes, his heart juddering in time with his rattling bones, Link gazed in horror as their tiny craft spun, curved down, swooped from side to side dodging plumes of flame spat from jagged cracks in the walls, then burst out into an immense chamber – no, not a chamber, an entire _ocean. _

"Water!" screamed Simon.

A thin, black arrow, curved and glistening in the ethereal light, leapt in and out of the green froth, heading straight for Link and his friends.

Simon, one hand over his brow, strained his eyes to see exactly what it was. The thing spun into the air, flipped over, then fell back into the water with a splash as it came closer and closer and – Simon's mouth fell open.

"Shark!" screamed Simon.

"Jump!" cried Link.

They sprang into the air as one, the shark curving over the platform just under them before diving back into the ocean. The platform dipped as they landed, the tail slapping the water, sending a stream of froth spiralling up behind them.

Darkness engulfed them as the platform plunged into another darkened passageway, then burst out into a whole other_ world - _with fields, villages, clouds, sky, sun - and then plummeted straight to the ground.

Link could see tiny creatures - men, clad in armour and holding swords aloft – grow larger and larger in his eyes as the ground flew up towards them with lightning-quick speed. His mouth opening instinctively to yell, the Shadow Lord braced for the impact – then at the very last moment the platform jolted upwards, its tail screeching as it kissed the earth, sparks trailing in its wake. Cloak flapping behind him, Link clung for dear life as the platform slowed, lurching wildly from left to right.

Three guards were upon them within a heartbeat, but the Shadow Lord was ready. Using the momentum of the flight, he uncoiled his muscles and leapt, arms outstretched and cloak snapping in the air. Landing with a stumble Link reached back and twirled his sword into his hand. He slashed at one guard, then whirled around sending his blade into a sharp arc to catch another. The last guard, knocked back by the platform's momentum, tumbled to the ground, his hand grasping at the hilt of his sword, desperately trying to pull it free. Others were approaching from the distance.

Link turned to his friends, checking them over quickly with a practised eye as he helped Mr Red to his feet. "We'll have to hurry." From behind him came the frantic curses of the guard. "Mr DeLance, take a look at the map at-"

A whisper of shimmering metal sliced the air.

The Shadow Lord spun around. The last guard grinned. "I see that you've managed to get your sword out, then," said Link. "You must be very proud."

But it was too late – more and more of the guards poured out of the shadows. Link heard Hawthorne scream.

"Stop!" Leaping in front of his friends, the Shadow Lord brought his sword to bear. A sea of glinting weapons faced him in return. "Leave them be, mates."

One of the guards, his crimson garb signalling him out for some position of distinction, stepped forward. "What is it that you are doing here n this most sacred of Temples?"

Link licked his lips. They were outnumbered. They were about to die. He had to think quickly. He had to say something that would give them a slim thread of hope for escape.

"Raspberries," he said at last.

Crimson blinked. "What?"

"Terribly hard to find raspberries at this time of year, mate. So we thought we'd just stroll in here, see if you had any." The Shadow Lord glanced at the hard faces before him. "You all seem like raspberry type men to me. I'm sure you're all bursting with raspberries."

"What foolishness is this?" Crimson spat, sneering. He stepped up so that he was nose-to-nose with the Shadow Lord. "First I'll tear you apart. Then I'll force-feed your limbs to your friends."

"No raspberries, then?" Link attempted a smile. "How about a banana? Perhaps you're a banana man, deep down."

A sea of metal flashed as swords were raised. The Shadow Lord stood his ground, but the others shrank back, fear igniting in their eyes –

_Thwip. Thwip. Thwip. _

Ropes fell from the ceiling, dangling momentarily and surprising the guards. The wind whistled as someone, a scarf tied around her neck trailing in the air, swung down from the shadows above, a spinning club in her hand. She swooped past the Shadow Lord, her weapon crunching into Crimson's face, then swung back upwards as other men, armed to the hilt, slid down the other ropes, yelling battle cries as they fell upon the guards.

Chaos followed, the guards desperately trying to fight back, then running for fear as a mass of colour descended from above, its surface first blue, then red, then winking silver, then flooding emerald. The woman with the club slowed her flight, her rope – attached to the thing of colour - winding down like a pendulum of a clock. "Ahoy, there!" She grinned, blonde hair spilling out over her shoulders as her eyes twinkled. "Excellent Radcliffe's my name, salvage is my game." She glanced in turn to the others. "I'd like to take this time to ask you to join me for a drink, maybe with a splash of lime. Come hop aboard the Boat that Floats Anywhere, come take a trip on the Colour Ship." Her face took on a sudden sinister edge. "And I _do_ hope you won't refuse."

2

"A ship of solid colour?" Link sat in the Captain's Quarters as the rainbow of light around him that constituted a flying vessel rocked slowly from side to side, creaking in the wind. "How's that work then, love?"

Excellent Radcliffe grinned, then spun on his heels and slid into a chair opposite the Shadow Lord. "To be honest, I have absolutely no idea." A pause, then, "But less with me and more with you."

The sound of furtive coughing reached them from the corner of the room. Link glanced in that direction, saw one large man standing there with arms crossed – a personal guard, no doubt – his breath raspy, his massive chest straining against his tunic. The man coughed again, wheezing. Link raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, don't mind General Tedious here," Excellent said. "He just has a slight problem with his breathing, that's all." Another coughing fit followed. Excellent ignored it. "Now. _Why_ are you here, exactly? Oh, and raspberries just won't cut the ice as an excuse."

Link drummed his fingers on the table. The others were being fed in some other part of the ship – the galley most likely – leaving him to deal with Excellent. The Shadow Lord wasn't yet sure if the woman – as beautiful as she was, he had to admit - was their host or their captor. All he knew was that they were here, disarmed, when time was slowly running out. "Where exactly _is_ here, sunshine?" he asked. "I was under the impression that my friends and I had found themselves within a Temple. Now it seems we're in a world within a world."

"That you are," Excellent confirmed, smile still in place. She scooped an apple up from a nearby bowl, slid a thin knife from her sleeve and began to peel. "Bigger on the inside than on the outside. The doorway to the Temple is, in fact, a gateway to another world. Killyjanmaro on the outside, and here, well...we don't have a name for the place. We just know who's in charge."

"And who is that then, love?"

Candlelight glistened off of Excellent's eyes as she watched the Shadow Lord carefully. The ship pitched and yawed slowly in the silence. "You really don't know, do you?" The lines around her eyes tightened minutely. "And yet you look like him." She pursed her lips. "Nevertheless, my mistake. I'll just have to rectify it, won't I?"

Link thought that he could hear the hint of a threat in the woman's words. "What are you, then?" he asked. "Pirates?"

A flicker of anger winked on and off Excellent's face. "I prefer the term 'Salvage Hunters.'"

"Salvage?"

"Salvage. Those little things that other people leave behind – be it goods, jewels, food, or even other people." She held Link's gaze for a heartbeat. "See that painting up there?" She nodded to a portrait hanging on the far wall, the faded colours depicting a woman in a crimson dress, her eyes alight, but her face still sad. "My pride and joy."

"Is that so?"

"Went through an infested moat, fifty-two guards – I counted them – seven trap-doors and a really really annoying Guardian of Death." He shook his head. "I hate those Guardians of Death."

"Irritating, aren't they, love?"

"You're telling me!" Her eyes lit up as they gazed at each other. Silence fell, a hint of a smile touching Excellent's lips.

"I can see," the Shadow Lord said, "that you're a woman of taste." Something danced in Link's eyes. "Would die for that picture, would you?"

Excellent shrugged modestly. "I like to think of myself as a lady of culture, yes." She smiled. "Yes...the portrait – The Melancholic Lady in Red - is rather dear to me." Clearing her throat, she went on, "As I said, we're Salvage Hunters. It would seem, though, that in _this_ particular case, our little expedition to rescue you was all for nought." She watched him carefully as she linked her hands together then brought her chin to rest upon them. "Nothing to salvage from you, is there, hmm?"

The Shadow Lord definitely heard the threat – as sugarcoated as it was - this time. He eyed the food steaming on the table before him. One particular dish caught his eye. "You eat cuccos?"

Excellent bowed her head slightly. "It's the only thing they're good for."

Link smiled despite himself. "Can't say I disagree, love."

Something softened on Excellent's face. "You think so?" she said, delighted. A girlish giggle flew from her lips. "You know I'm always trying to inform everyone about the dangers of cuccos. No-one seems to ever listen to me."

"I _know_!" The Shadow Lord grinned as he laid his palms flat on the table. "You'd think they were in some other little world where cuccos aren't the most vicious –"

"-parasitic-"

"- evil, foul smelling –"

"- creatures of the deepest darkest night itself."

They grinned at each other. The air seemed to thicken. Their eyes were both wide, their gazes locked, as though they couldn't bring themselves to turn from the other.

Link stood slowly, the coloured boards creaking under his feet as he began to pace, hands behind his back.

"It seems," Excellent said softly, her eyes tracking his every movement, "we have quite a bit in common."

"Maybe," Link replied. He stepped over to the wall, next to the where the candle hung in its holder. "What is it that inspired you to become a Salvage Hunter, if I could just ask?"

Excellent leaned back in her chair as the Shadow Lord stood over her. She felt her breathing slow, felt her lips open slightly. The corner of Link's tugged upwards in response, and he licked his lips slowly.

"Salvage Hunters are we," she explained, "_freedom _for me. There's nothing better, my friend, than working solely for your own self. No-one to answer to, no-one to push you around. Go where you want, earn how you want. It's magic!" Candlelight flickered on her glistening eyes. "I used to be a tutor in a small village, acting all prim and proper as I taught the little ones all the basics. But you know what?"

"You hated it, right?"

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Excellent nodded. "Right. Do this, do that, every suggestion I made rejected – I was sick of it." She looked away as she began to reminisce. Link stepped closer. "Then, one day, as a favour, I was charged with delivering a - oh, I don't know - a package, I think to someone. Had nothing to do with my duties, but I was desperate to make a good impression, so I did it. I thought, maybe, they'd think me a wonderful person and give me a higher position, one where I could make a difference – it's sound silly, I know." The girlish giggle returned, but the Shadow Lord merely smiled and motioned for her to go on. Excellent's voice dropped to a whisper. "But when I came face to face with the person and handed over the package-"

"- the look on his face –"

" - made it all- "

" - worthwhile, right, love?"

Excellent grinned, her teeth flashing. "Right!" She laughed. Their eyes locked again. Excellent pulled at her tunic, suddenly finding that she was feeling uncomfortably hot. "So, that little epiphany led me into a new choice of profession – _this _one. Most of the stuff we salvage we give to those who need it. It's just the odd one or two items that we keep for ourselves. The more expensive goods, we sell. It's a hard life, but it's good. We're free." She shrugged. "Relatively."

"A noble task to be sure," the Shadow Lord replied. He took one step. Then another. Shadows danced on the floor behind him. Excellent gazed up at him, her throat tightening. Link leaned in closer. Excellent closed her eyes.

"And now," said Link, his voice quiet, "I'm terribly sorry, I really do apologise, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to depart."

With a swipe of his arm, he snatched the candle from the holder then waved it in Excellent's face. The Salvage Hunter shrank back, her hands gripping the sides of her chair, bewilderment in her eyes.

General Tedious rumbled into action, swivelling around, his massive hands reaching up for the Shadow Lord – and then he began to cough. And cough again. And cough some more. Soon he was nothing more than a quivering hunk of coughing and spluttering, his eyes blazing with anger as he tumbled to the ground in a helpless heap. He snarled at the Shadow Lord, then tried to stand – and fell to the ground as the coughing overtook him once more. Wheezing, tears streaming from his eyes, General Tedious slapped the ground in despair.

Excellent looked up angrily, a smouldering look of deep hurt in her eyes. "You're threatening me with a candle? Are you mad?"

"No, love," Link replied, grinning. "I'm threatening _this_ with a candle." He spun around and brought the candle to bear just inches away from the Melancholic Lady in Red.

Excellent gasped, her fingernails digging ever deeper into the sides of her chair. "You wouldn't!

"My sword," Link growled, his face half-shrouded in shadow, " if you'd be so kind."

Her chest heaving, her face turning scarlet, Excellent slowly stood, then walked over to a nearby chest, her eyes – now blazing with pure hate - not leaving Link's face.

"Move!" The Shadow Lord jabbed at the portrait, prompting the Salvage Hunter to dart over to the chest, snap it open and pull out Link's sword. "Throw it, then move away."

Raised voices floated in from the deck, some sort of commotion from outside turning tempers sour. Link ignored it. His sword chopped the air as Excellent threw it, tip over hilt, the blade catching the molten light of candle flame. He caught the blade with his free hand, plucking it out of the air with liquid ease. He moved to leave, then paused. "A word of advice to you, love," the Shadow Lord said. "I wouldn't be so attached to the more material things in life, if I were you." He moved to leave again, and stopped yet again. "Unless, of course, it's a rather dashing and incredibly useful green hat. Don't leave home without one."

Excellent's mouth dropped open as the Shadow Lord lifted the portrait off of the wall. "You can't take it!" she said, her fists clenching and unclenching. "I'll stop you!"

"It's just a little insurance, darling," the Shadow Lord replied as he backed away. "I'll give it back as soon my friends and I are off your insane little pleasure boat. Oh, and by the way," he winked, "we really could have been friends, you know that?"

Link ran over to the door, kicked it open –

and found himself facing the glares of the rest of the Hunter crew, their weapons already drawn. At the stern the Shadow Lord spotted his friends, all huddled around Simon DeLance who was, at that very moment, lurching from side to side, his arms outstretched, his eyes completely white. Momentarily forgetting about the immediate danger, Link stared at the young man. "What's happened to _him_? Did he just happen to spy Tingle undressing or some other similarly horrific experience and, as a probably fortunate result, gone completely and utterly blind?"

Drool hung from Simon's lips. His eyes rolled. He groaned in pain.

"Link!" cried Hawthorne. "He just went totally crazy all of sudden – we don't know why!"

"Sucka disturbed our dinner," explained Mr C, "and then had all these fools spooked so that they think we're all demons or something."

Simon lurched some more, his lips smacking open and shut wordlessly. The Shadow Lord watched in complete bewilderment. "Are you...are you...?" He shook his head. "You don't need something ghastly like a hug now, do you, mate?"

"Treasure..." Simon moaned. "I can sense it near."

"Oh, jolly good," Link replied, grinning. "I do like it when things all fall into place like that."

"I can _feel_ it," Simon went on. "I hear its whisper, tremble under its caress, taste its-"

"Yes. Well. Very nice." The Shadow Lord's eyes fell to the agitated crew of the Colour Ship. "Now if you mates would just let me through."

They stood their ground, the tips of the blades glinting. Link smiled, and then raised the portrait. They all looked at him in befuddlement. "If you don't move, my misguided and yet commendably efficient friends," the Shadow Lord said. "I'll kill the hostage."

"_Let him through_!" Excellent screamed from the cabin. "_Don't let anything happen to the picture_!"

Reluctantly they parted to open a path up for the Shadow Lord. He bounded over to his friends, then peered over the side of the ship. Wispy fingers of cloud flew past them at dizzying speed as Link gazed around, spying the most incredible things below – a waterfall of gold coins, giants with hammer like arms smashing mountains to powder, giggling children with wings for feet. The Shadow Lord dragged himself away as the wind howled in his ears. "Mr DeLance," he said. "Now would be a good time to tell us exactly where the Treasure is."

Simon stopped short, spun on his heels, then pointed to the opening of a tunnel that the ship was slowly floating past just at that precise moment. "There!"

"How terribly convenient!" Link cried. Under his breath, he added, "You know, I always wonder at all the little coincidences that happen to occur in Hyrule just as I'm on one of my big quests. It's really quite baffling." He looked up. "Mr... uh...Dead. A passageway, please!"

Undead flesh stretched, a makeshift rope forming from the ReDead's arm to the tunnel. With a quick nod of his head, the Shadow Lord gestured at the others to climb across. Excellent Radcliffe, her face aflame with fury, burst from the cabin just as Link began his climb.

"Wait!" the Salvage Hunter gasped, her hair and tunic rippling in the breeze. "My portrait!"

A grin on his face and a sparkle in his eye, the Shadow Lord glanced at the Melancholic Lady in Red. "You know what, love?" The Hunters froze as Link held the portrait over thin air. Excellent's face became a pale, icy sculpture of pure fear. "This is one very ugly picture." He let go.

The ReDead and Link snapped across to join their friends, the wind now carrying nothing more than Excellent' Radcliffe's piercing cry of despair drowned out by the Shadow Lord of Castleton's maniacal cackle of joy.


	12. The Trial

**12 – The Trial**

It was a revolving corridor. It just had to be. Nothing normal ever happened in the Shadow Lord's life.

The little party wobbled from side to side as the tunnel – built completely from smooth, grey metal that shone like the skin of a Zora – made its silent slow rotation. Steadying himself against the sway of the ground, Link glanced over his shoulder, saw the dark arrowhead of an anchor fly through the opening they'd just entered and let out a frustrated breath. "Not good," he muttered.

"It looks like," the ReDead said, a queasy look on his face as he held out his arms to keep his balance, "that the young pirate lady is going to follow us in."

The Shadow Lord favoured him with a sour grin. "I'm glad you're here to inform us of these things," he said, feeling irritation itch at his heart. "Are you, perchance, trying to fill in Navi's ever-so-slightly overrated role in her absence?"

Not waiting for a reply, Link looked up ahead to see Simon DeLance lurch onwards, slipping occasionally against the smooth metallic floor, the young man still in the grip of his strange trance. "Treasure..." he muttered. "I can _feel _it..."

Link's eyes snapped shut as a sharp light momentarily flashed in his line of sight. Shaking his head, he blinked and saw that Hawthorne was spiralling around and around, her eyes bulging. "Dizzy..." she moaned. "I feel so dizzy."

"Don't worry, love," the Shadow Lord replied as he saw Simon pause at the far end of the corridor. "It would seem our esteemed Mr DeLance has found an exit." Simon pulled at a metal plate, snapped it free with a spark and then, without waiting for the others, he slipped inside.

Urgent echoing voices sprinkled with anger and indignation began to rise up from behind the little party. The Salvage Hunters were coming, Link realised. They had to move. "Mr Red," he said, motioning at the jolly little man who stood unfazed by all the movement, a content smile sitting on his face. "I'm going to follow the boy in. You bring the others, mate."

"Yes, _sah_!"

Link tensed, pushing all his weight onto his feet. He waited, watching...watching...then leapt, aiming for the small section of metal that was just making its most lowermost rotation. He landed, stumbled as the corridor rocked around him, then leapt again, once more going for the part of the room that stayed the most level. He sprang up again, rolled and – found himself floating, the air rippling around him. Link raised an eyebrow. "Interesting," he said under his breath as he glided down to the ground. He didn't have the time to work out exactly what had just happened; he'd have to dwell on it when he was a tad less preoccupied. A few more jumps later and the Shadow Lord found himself facing the small opening Simon had made. Without even pausing to take a quick peek, the Shadow Lord of Castleton dived in.

Darkness met him for a heartbeat, suffocating him as though he'd just been plunged into the depths of the murkiest of oceans and then, just as quickly, he found himself rolling out onto a smooth – and thankfully stable – marble floor. Link brushed himself down as he stood. Up ahead, he saw Simon, still as a statue, gazing up in awe.

"What is this place?" the young man asked. It appeared that the trance had finally been broken. Did that mean, Link mused, that the Treasure was here?

The Shadow Lord sidled up to Simon and followed his gaze. A forest of uneven marble columns, illuminated by shafts of light of no clear source, loomed up ahead of them. At the far end of the chamber, sitting atop a flight of stairs, was a giant pair of double-doors, a huge lock, glistening dully in the faint light, hanging from the handles. And, in front of the doors, floating in mid-air and caught in a pillar of light, there rotated-

"What's that?" It was Hawthorne – the others had caught up to Simon and Link at last.

The Shadow Lord sighed, pure scorn dripping from his face. "It's a..."

The others blinked as his voice descended into an incomprehensible mumble. "A what?" asked Hawthorne.

"It's a..." He did it again.

Simon turned to him "A _what?_"

"It's a..." Link closed his eyes, a painful expression of embarrassment hanging from his face. "A...'Boss'...Key." He spat the words as though they tasted foul on his tongue. "Because, as you are probably aware, there's nothing like labelling something with the most inane and obvious of all names. 'Boss' hereby referring to the Guardian of Doom no doubt hiding behind those doors there."

"Why," said the ReDead, his voice echoing around the empty chamber, "did they leave the Key just exactly where we could find it? Why didn't they just leave the door unlocked?"

"I think, mate," the Shadow Lord replied, "that aside from you, I and anyone else who has the common sense to ask such questions, the educational and intellectual level of the people of Hyrule can't be too high."

A whisper of rustled fabric filled the chamber. The little group looked up, surprised, to see that the columns of marble now had new residents – standing atop each one was a small hooded figure, cloaked in black. They stared down at the party with cold, dark eyes. A voice rumbled through the air. "We," it said, "are the Judges."

Hawthorne scrunched up her face as she peered up. "The Judges?"

"That is what we said," the voice boomed impatiently. "Judgement must be passed today, and it is one of you who will face trial." A beat. "If we find you guilty, we will deliver a punishment to each and everyone of you." Another beat. " If we find you innocent, the Boss Key will be yours."

"One of us?" squeaked Hawthorne. "Who?"

The Shadow Lord of Castleton, a sinking sensation tarring the pits of his stomach, hung his head and sighed. He should have known that this would be coming. He should have known that his actions – incomprehensible to most peopleas they were – would finally be taken to task. After all, it was a tall order for him to be expect that he could have gone through his entire life without finally being caught out. He stepped forward.

"Only one here," the Judges went on, "is as foul and as despicable as to have warranted our special attention. Please, step forward-"

Link closed his eyes and took another step.

"- Mr Simon DeLance!"

A shaft of light fell upon Simon, revealing the terrified expression hanging from his face. "What?" he said, his eyes darting in panic. "What did I do?"

"Your crime, Mr DeLance," the Judges boomed, "is that you are, without doubt, the single most desolate, despicable, downright unsociable, pathetically miserable wretch in the whole of Hyrule."

Simon gaped in shock, open-mouthed. Then, as the Judges' words registered in his mind, Simon stiffened in indignation. "Hey!" he protested.

"And," the Judges said, "so that we are not accused of being unjust, we have decided to let one of yourassociates speak in your defence – Link, the Hero of Time and Shadow Lord of Castleton."

Link chewed the inside of his cheek as a shaft of light illuminated his face. "Let me just make sure that I've understood you, mate –Your Honour – Your Mate," he said. "You want me to prove that young Mr DeLance here is not, in fact, the single most desolate, despicable, downright unsociable, pathetically miserable wretch in the whole of Hyrule?"

"That is correct."

Swivelling on his heels, the Shadow Lord turned to face his party, a forced grin on his face. "Alright, my friends, I think, given the circumstances, the best course of action for us would be to start digging our own graves right about now. We are officially dead."

"Hey!" Simon protested.

"I object!" They all turned to the source of the voice, just in time to see Excellent Radcliffe, surrounded by her crew, slip into the chamber and march straight up to the Shadow Lord. "_He_ shouldn't be concerned about defending his friend here, _he _should be more worried about defending himself-" she scooped her axe from her belt, a ribbon of light running down its sharpened edge, then brought it a stop inches from Link's face "- from _me_."

The Shadow Lord blinked, unfazed. "Is there some sort of unresolved issue between you and I, love?"

Excellent's eyes bulged. "Unresolved issue!" Her fingers, the skin stretched, gripped harder around the handle of her axe. "You destroyed my painting!" she spat. "You led me on!"

Link's eyes darkened. "You led yourself on, love," he replied. "If you recall not once did I say or do anything that would have _clearly _given you the wrong idea – your own imagination did that. I did what I had to do to get off your ship and back to the Princess."

Excellent blinked. "Princess?" she said. "What Princess?"

"My _wife_. She's in danger and it was no help to me at all to be stuck with you on your little multicoloured love boat."

Something softened in Excellent's eyes, though her voice remained as hard as flint. "Well, if you needed help why didn't you just _ask_ me for it?"

Instinctively, the Shadow Lord opened his mouth to let fly with an acid retort. His brain, though, hadn't managed to catch up. He scowled, defeated. "Oh."

"'Oh' he says!" Excellent cried. "It seems that you consider _your _needs greater than mine or anyone else who gets in your way! Pathetic. It's people like you that drove me to become a Salvage Hunter."

Link flinched. That was twice. Twice this young woman had caught him out and, with a deep sense of bitterness, he didn't like it – it wasn't everyday that he was stung with the same criticism that he lashed out to others. He wasn't going to give up, though. "It's just a picture, woman!" he said. "It's not something essential that you need, it's not-" He paused. Once again, as had been his habit over the past five years, he tried toimagine what the Princess would say had she been here.

Excellent watched him warily. "It's not what?"

_Sometimes, Link, _the memory of the Princess' voice floated into his mind, _you _do _go a little too far. _The Shadow Lord looked straight at Excellent, his lips pursed. "I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it.

Excellent leaned her head to one side, pushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes with her free hand, and motioned for him to go on.

"I'm really terribly sorry for what I did to your picture. And I'm sorry if you felt that I led you in." He tried to swallow the sour taste from his mouth. "I apologise."

Blinking, Excellent Radcliffe watched the Shadow Lord of Castleton like a cat would watch its prey. "An apology won't bring my picture back."

"But it's sincere," he replied. He added a quick smile for emphasis. "From the heart." His mind raced, desperately trying to pick out a sage word or two that Zelda would have said had she been here. "After all, love makes the world go around."

Link grinned at Excellent.

Excellent stared at Link.

Link grinned some more at Excellent.

"No, it doesn't," she said at last.

"Enough!" The Judges' singular voice rolled through the air like thunder. "On with the trial." Dark eyes fixed themselves onto the Shadow Lord. "Defence...how do you plead?"

Link licked his lips. "Guilty, Your Mate."

Simon stared. "_What_?"

"Defence..." The Judges sounded as though they were clearing their collective throats. "We expected a little more...meat...to your argument."

His mind racing, the Shadow Lord of Castleton tried desperately to find a line of reasoning that would get them out of this somewhat dire predicament. "He's just a good boy, really," Link tried, his voice faltering. "Life of every party. Our lives would be so much different without him." He couldn't resist. "They'd be a lot brighter for one."

Simon closed his eyes. "You are _not_ helping."

"How long," asked the Judges, "have you known Mr DeLance, Defence?"

"Oh, about..." Link flipped the time crystal into his hand "...three or four days. Give or take an hour or two."

Had they possessed eyebrows, the Judges would have been raising them. "Is there anyone in this room who has known Mr DeLance for a considerably longer period of time?"

Hawthorne gazed around the room, whistling. Mr Red took a sudden interest in his shoes. Cupid started polishing his bow. The ReDead bent down to pick up a limb that had conveniently just dropped off. Excellent Radcliffe and her crew took a collective step backwards.

A sigh escaped from the Judges. "Then may we suggest that the Shadow Lord reflect back on his short association with Mr DeLance and conceive a more stronger argument? Unless, of course, you wish to concede, in which case, proceed...on your way to oblivion."

There was a cough from the back of the room. "I thought," one solitary Judge said, his voice hushed and furtive, "that we were just going to banish them from the Temple and destroy the Key."

"Yes?" the other Judges whispered back.

"Well, what's with all this 'proceed...on your way to oblivion' stuff?"

"Oh, it's just," the other Judges cleared their collective throats once again, "we always wanted to say that." They turned their attention back to the Shadow Lord. "Do you concede?"

Link fidgeted in agitation. "Just give me a moment, Your Mate."

"You!" snapped Hawthorne as she glided up to Mr C. "Yes, you! You're going to help!"

Cupid gave her a dismissive scowl. "I ain't no Service Fairy, fool!" he spat. "I'll do whatever I please, whenever I want."

Growling, Hawthorne grabbed Cupid by his tunic and leaned in close, her eyes wide. "You. Are. Going. To. Help."

"Why should I, sucka?"

"Because it's the _right_ thing to do, you idiot!" Her tiny form trembled with rage. "You and your 'righteous' brothers...you only look out for each other...you only ever help the people who think like you do!"

Cupid let out a breath, unimpressed. "So?"

She shook him hard and snarled. "Don't you realise how _stupid_ that is? Are the rest of us not even alive just because we don't share the same beliefs as you?" She shook him some more. "Look at me! I'm alive, aren't I? I can breathe, laugh, and cause you some serious damage, can't I? Help us, or I'll make sure that you _won't_ be alive! Do what's right!"

Cupid glared at her, his forehead creased with fury. "I'll help you, sucka...but only so that I can get out of this twisted Temple – no other reason but that, understand, fool?"

"Fine!"

"Shadow Lord," the Judges spoke again. "Have you something to say?"

Link's mind flew back to the moment that he'd met Simon, to the things the young man had spoken of high on the cathedral ledge above Mountbasten. "Mr DeLance's only crime..." he said, his voice still uncertain, "...is that he _cares._"

"Hmm..." the Judges replied. "Interesting tactic. Carry on."

"You see," the Shadow Lord continued, gaining confidence in his words, "young MrDeLance is only unhappy because of the cruelty and misery that he sees all around him. And, because he's such a caring, sensitive soul, all the pain in the world cuts the poor mate to the heart. In effect, when he sees other little blighters in pain, he himself feels pain, and when he witnesses the injustices that we so casually inflict on one other, he himself feels anger. And you know what, Your Mate?"

"Pray tell."

"I'd rather have him like that than be one of those empty headed aimless sheep that see all this horror and feel nothing inside, feel no inspiration to go get up and do something. I'd rather him be the way he is than be like those children masquerading as adults who, when indulging in a spot of recreational reading or sitting at a theatrical show, cry when their imaginary characters get hurt, but don't shed a single tear when real people suffer, who weep when their favourite tournament fighter loses, but are stony-faced when real people lose real, more precious things." Link was rolling now. "The only problem with Mr DeLance, the glaring flaw that I don't believe that he himself is aware of, is that he's out of balance. It isn't as bad as he thinks out there, in fact, if he'd just pull himself out of himself, he'd see that there's a lot more to smile about than to frown about."

"Is this true, Mr DeLance?" the Judges asked. "Is it that, if you just stopped to take a breath, that you'd actually be happy?"

Simon glanced around, completely lost. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Shadow Lord surreptitiously gesture at him. "Oh," he said, his voice blank. "Yes. I am happy. See?" He forced a smile to his face. "Actually," he went on as his eyes found the rest of his party. "I am...because these past few days...I've been with friends. People who have, despite the fact that I must have annoyed them to their wits end, still managed to look out for me no matter what." A smile came to him, a genuine one. "I'm happy that I met these people...these friends."

"And," the Shadow Lord cut in. "I, too, am proud to have Mr Simon DeLance as a friend. Very proud."

Silence filled the room. One of the Judges stroked his chin in thought. "We hear your eloquent words and are swayed," the Judges said in unison. "However...we have one minor concern." They turned to Simon. "Is Mr DeLance actually capable of the emotion of love?"

"Now!" cried Hawthorne.

Mr C shot into the air, reached back into his quiver, pulled free an arrow, nocked it into his bow, and set it free. Spinning, the tiny arrow zipped across the room, deftly dodged the myriad columns, then slapped straight into Simon's head. The young man blinked, dazed. Then, ever-so-slowly, a grin started to spread across his face. He staggered across the room, lurching as though he was in a trance once more.

"Where..." asked the Judges hesitantly, "is he going?"

Excellent Radcliffe, her arms folded across her chest, watched the proceedings with detached interest. Mild alarm pricked at her heart as she noted that Simon DeLance seemed to be marching straight towards her. "Where _is_ he going?"

Simon stopped in front of her. She stared at him, alarmed. He grinned. She began to back off. With a sudden last lurch, Simon DeLance threw himself at Excellent's feet.

"I love you," Simon said. "Truly, madly, deeply."

"What?"

"Marry me!"

"No!"

"Hold my hand?"

"I rest my case!" cried Link, winking.

The Judges turned to each other. Furtive whispering followed, punctuated by one or two cries of exasperation. Finally, they turned back. "In lieu of your innovative methodology," the Judges said, "we have decided to acquit Mr DeLance of all charges. The Boss Key is yours." A flash of light followed, engulfing the chamber and, when their sight returned, Link and his friends saw the Judges had gone, curling wisps of smoke the only trace of their presence. The Boss Key clattered to the ground.

"Um," said Excellent. "Would you mind not clinging to my leg, please?"

The Shadow Lord of Castleton stepped over to his friends. "Miss Hawthorne, Mr C," he said. "I'm in your debt." The two Fairies beamed in response. "Now, let's just pick up the Key and-"

"Hey..." It was Simon, shuffling back to his feet. "Hey, wait. Mr Link."

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to say..." Simon swallowed as the others watched in expectation. "I wanted to say 'thank you.' And...and I'm proud that you consider me a friend, too."

Simon smiled at Link.

Link stared back.

Simon held out his hand.

Link opened his mouth. "_Bwahahahahahahhahahahaha!"_

"I should have known.," Simon said, sighing as he shook his head. "I just should have known."

**A/N**: Miss Vladimir T. Hamster asked in her review how I write so quickly...the simply answer is that I write ahead. I had five chapters already done before I even posted the prologue to WotF. It means I can plan everything out and rewrite when necessary (and add author's notes such as this one!). Hope you're all enjoying the story!


	13. Betrayed

**13 – Betrayed**

As soon as Link's hand touched the cold metal skin of the Boss Key he knew that he'd be taking the final leg of this journey alone. Crouching at the foot of the stairs, the Shadow Lord of Castleton glanced over his shoulder and saw that a shimmering liquid curtain now separated him from the rest of his party. Where – and when – the cunning little thing had come from he didn't know. All he did know was that he was in one place while the other mates and loves, their shapes blurred and indistinct, were behind the opaque barrier.

Scooping the Key up with one hand, Link stood, sighed and looked up. A thrill ran through his entire body, his heart tingling pleasantly as a result. This was it. This was the end.

Behind the double-doors up ahead he would, no doubt, find the Treasure, the Guardian and most likely the little love Navi, too. More importantly, though, was the fact that he was just inches away from getting what he needed to cure the Princess. The thought made his heart throb with anticipation some more, and he had to let out a deep breath just to steady himself. He was going to cure her. He was going to rescue her, hold her in his arms protectively and taste everything about her that made her so sweet. He ached just thinking about it. And, then, just so he could he see her smile again, he'd bring her to the forest so that she could lie in the sun and laugh and laugh and laugh.

And she deserved it. She deserved it because, despite all his noble intentions, deliciously fiendish though they were, and his somewhat haphazard manners, she was everything he was not – she was _good._ In this wretched world of the cruel, the cold and the utterly selfish, she really was truly _good._

That's why he loved her.

The Shadow Lord's footsteps rang out as he began to climb the stairs. His resolve was firm and his mind set. His thoughts flickered back to an old dust-stained text he'd studied long ago named 'The Secret of Secrets.' The author opined that the one in control of himself would find everything in the world at his behest. And the one thing Link had desperately tried to learn from his time with Zelda was to gain control of himself. All he had to do was _trust._

It would be a lot easier, he mused, if there weren't so many bleedin steps to go up. He let out another breath, checked his sword, then continued to trudge upwards, the hem of his cloak whispering against the marble stairs. He took one step, every fibre of his being wishing that there were another, quicker way to do this. He took another step, a current of energy suddenly running through him –

and, bewildered, Link found himself floating once again, just as he had been in the revolving corridor. The breeze caught him and he floated up to the double-doors. As his boots came to rest upon the ground Link felt the tingle wash off of him, leaving nothing but a faint stirring, a stirring of something – or someone – familiar, who just happened to be waiting beyond the doors.

The lock fell to the ground with a clatter as the Shadow Lord inserted the Boss Key. He hesitated a moment, uncertain, then pushed open the double-doors. They parted with a slow creak.

Inside the new, somewhat darkened chamber Link noticed three things – a fully-laden banquet table at the far end, a strange glowing opal, larger than a man, glistening as it sat to one side and, just above him pressed close to the wall, a tiny cage where inside fluttered –

"Navi!"

"Link?" The Fairy peered out from behind her bars, blinked, then slowly let herself begin to grin. "Link! It's you!"

"Indeed it is, love," he replied. "Just wait there and I'll have you out in a jiffy. That Fairy Queen's got you in a right pickle, innit?"

"No, Link!" Navi cried, suddenly alarmed. "It's not the Fairy Queen, it's-"

A figure stepped into the light. The Shadow Lord glanced up, the shimmer of his sword being drawn cutting into the silence. Link blinked, eyebrow raised, as he got a clearer sight of the newcomer. "Well," the Shadow Lord said, pondering. "You're certainly not me, and I would wager that you're probably not that blighter Dark." Link's eyes narrowed. "So who _are_ you, then?"

"In my world," the newcomer replied in slow measured voice as he clasped his hands behind his back, "I am the Last of the Links, sent back in time to atone for my sins."

"Ah," the Shadow Lord replied. "A descendent of mine, is it?" Link held out his arms and grinned. "Son!"

The Last Link let out an irritated breath. "No..." he said. "This is not my world. I came here through that portal," he nodded at the glowing opal, "and here I only exist physically within my own mind. My powers are immense –magnified more so by your presence as we seem, strangely enough, to draw upon the other – though I am strongest here in this chamber and have only a miniscule influence in the world outside. Worry not, I will remedy _that_ soon enough." His eyes flickered. "This world, this Hyrule; there's subtle differences between here and my world." He licked his lips, as though in anticipation. "Let me explain: here in your world, all the Guardians – the witches Twinrova, for example - are still trapped within their Temples despite your travelling back in time. In my world, they are dead. I killed them. Completely. I enjoyed it, too." His mouth curled into a cruel smile. "I think I'll enjoy it here as well." He paused as his eyes, filled with scorn, traced Link up and down. "I knew you were coming, 'Shadow Lord', through the mental connection we both share. Perhaps you have felt it? No? Nevertheless, I know what you want, and I know you're too late." His smile became a sneer. "For, you see, I've only come here for one thing...and I have found it." Pure hatred shone through the man's eyes. "You...are obsolete. You will die at my hands."

"Tell me, mate," the Shadow Lord replied, unfazed. "Do you always reveal your plans to everyone or are you just very very lonely?"

The Last Link pierced the Shadow Lord with a look of pure contempt. "I would advise you not to be so glib." His eyes grew cold. "And as for being lonely...you are about to discover that that particular state is far from being my own."

"The Fairy Treasure of the Ancients," the Shadow Lord said, ignoring him. His eyes darted, examining his surroundings, as his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. He was going to be ready. "You happen to know where it is, mate?"

"I do," the Last Link replied. "But I assure you that that is the least of your worries. And, I promise you that you will lose today without a fight."

An icy finger of disquieting unease prodded the Shadow Lord's heart. "What, perchance, are you talking about?"

A thin smile spread across the Last Link's face once again. He turned to a darkened corner of the chamber. "My sweet?"

The lithe form of Princess Zelda, dressed in her Sheikah outfit, slipped out of the shadows.

His heart soaring, the Shadow Lord brightened instantly, a grin flying automatically to his lips. "Love! You're here! But how-?" The Princess gave him a cool look, then stepped over to the Last Link's side. Something dark gripped the Shadow Lord to his very core. "Love?"

"As you can see," the Last Link sneered, "I have everything that I came for." He took one last look at the Shadow Lord, savouring the utter shock blossoming on the man's face – he looked as though something deep within him had snapped in two – then gazed down at the Princess.

"Love?" the Shadow Lord gasped, the muscles in his throat taut. "It's me...it's Link."

Zelda wrapped her arms around the Last Link's neck, her fingers lacing together as they, ever-so-briefly, tapped his collar. The Shadow Lord's eyes grew.

"She's mine now," the Last Link said softly. "She's chosen me, haven't you, my sweet?"

Zelda smiled as she let her head come to rest against the Last Link's chest. "I have, my love."

The Shadow Lord fell to his knees, his face a mask of such pure misery that the Last Link had to stop himself from laughing out loud. "But," the Shadow Lord gasped, his body and voice both betraying the sheer depth of his defeat, "I came all this way just for you, love."

"I'm afraid," the Last Link said, "that I give her all the she needs, all that she dreams of...all that you didn't. I give her the pure, unconditional love that she's been searching for – yearning for - all her life."

Zelda, her eyes aglow, gazed up at her new paramour. "If I hadn't have met you, I'd never even have known what love truly was."

Trembling, the Shadow Lord's eyes snapped shut. "_Don't you realise that I came all this way?_"

The Last of the Links could literally taste the sweetness of this victory on his tongue. He stroked the Princess' hair – stealing the man's wife and then parading her in front of him was the most exquisite form of torture that he could inflict on anyone. And, besides, that's precisely why he'd been 'punished' – for the trifling little 'crime' of indulging in mental and physical torture. The fools. He was the Hero of Time – they owed him their lives! He could do anything that he pleased! And, yes, he had felt a smudge of guilt for a while, but that was before fortune brought him here. That was before he found his true love.

The Shadow Lord, his whole body sagging with despair, looked up at the two of them. "I'm your husband...don't you remember?" Desperation clawed at his voice. "I'm your _husband_."

A haughty look on her raised face, the Princess gave the Shadow Lord a hard stare. "I believe, sir, that you are gravely mistaken."

Again it looked as though something had been torn out from inside the Shadow Lord. It really was delicious, the Last Link thought. "So," he said, pulling the Princess even closer as they both gazed down at the pathetic wretch. "I will now be the Hero of this world, and Zelda will be at my side. Do you admit defeat?"

"Without her..." The Shadow Lord's eyes glistened. "All the things I do, all my bluster, all my cockiness...it was all an act...it was to hide the fact that I can't live without her." His voice broke. "I just can't."

The Last Link cocked his head to one side. "Is that what you want me to do?" His voice was a harsh whisper, solitary like the song of the wind in the depths of the desert. "Kill you?"

"No, Link!" Navi cried, rattling her cage in panic. "No!"

The Shadow Lord let his head drop. When he spoke, his voice was a trembling wreck, the remains of a once strong and vibrant man. "Without her love, I'm already defeated. Finish me now, my life is at an end."

"Then, so be it." The Last Link grinned. "Ha ha ha! Ha! Ha Ha!" He paused to softly kiss the Princess on her forehead. "I told you that you'd lose without a fight."

At a gesture from the Last Link's hand, the Shadow Lord lifted off of the ground, his limbs dangling like a puppet with its strings cut. Finally succumbing enough to let free with a throaty laugh, the Last Link flicked his fingers, sending the Shadow Lord screaming through the open doorway, tumbling head over heels. The double-doors slammed shut behind him, his scream ending with a sudden gurgle. Far above, Navi the Fairy slumped against the bars of her cage. "Nooooooo..."

"Children!" Zelda cried, grinning as the little ones darted out of their hiding places. Her arms wrapped around them and buried her face in their hair. "Don't worry...it's all alright now."

A gaggle of giggling children clinging to her, the Princess let herself be pulled into the Last Link's embrace. His body sagged in relief. _Over. Really over. No more running, no more hiding, no more loneliness. There was only one now. There was only him. _He snapped his fingers and crimson sunlight poured into the chamber, filling the room with a homely glow. "I'd watched that man, that 'Link' for a long time," he said as he guided the Princess away from the little ones. "Evil, nasty man. I'm sure he expected to die in a blaze of glory – ha! Real life was a lot more cold to him."

Zelda closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm so proud of you," she said. "If only you could rid the world of all men such as him."

"But enough about him," the Last Link said, their footsteps ringing out against the marble floor. "Ah...this feeling I have now. This excitement, this electricity...I wish I could capture it in a bottle. It's all that matters, one could surely get intoxicated to it." He took in a deep breath. "I feel like I'm floating, I feel wanted, _loved._ Yes...that's it...it's real love, that's what it is."

The Princess smiled. "It must be."

They walked slowly onwards into the sunlight, children dancing around them, laughter, sighs and giggles floating in the air. "Now, I believe," said the Last Link ,"we need to prepare for the wedding."

Zelda twirled out of his embrace, her eyes twinkling as she grinned. "Wedding!" she cried, almost squealing. "It has to be big!"

The Last Link laughed. "My dear..."

"And with flowers, lots of them," the Princess went on, almost bursting with excitement. "Red roses are my favourite. Or pink carnations." She thought this over. "In fact, pink anything."

The Last Link shook his head in mock-despair.

"And the children can help," Zelda said. "It will be so grand."

The Last Link favoured her with a tolerant smile. "I was hoping for a more modest affair, my love."

"Oh," the Princess said, her mouth sagging. "_Please._" She leaned forward, resting one palm against his chest. "For me?"

Smiling, the Last Link sighed. "For you...anything."

The Princess stood there, radiant, a crown of sunlight circling her head, her eyes large, her smile broad.

"And so it ends," the Last Link said. "Now that we have each other and the children, now that I am poised to be the Hero anew, we can live happily ever-"

"There's just one tiny little thing," Zelda cut in, her voice echoing as she twirled one strand of her hair around her finger.

"What is it, my sweet?"

"Oh..." The Princess, looking coy, cast her gaze down. "Nothing."

"Oh, come now," the Last Link replied. "You wouldn't have mentioned it if it were nothing."

"Welllll..." Zelda said, smiling as she looked up into the Last Link's eyes. "It's just the Treasure that he wanted...I'd only wish I'd seen it. I'm sure it must be shiny and nice and beautiful."

"_You_ are nice and beautiful."

Zelda looked coy once again. "You say the most wonderful things. I feel so...so...so..."

"Loved?" the Last Link said softly.

The Princess smiled at him. "Loved." She looked away, deep in thought. "How did I not meet you before?"

"Fortune hadn't favoured us until now." The Last Link took in a deep breath. "And now that it has...I will do anything for you."

Zelda tilted her head to one side. "The Treasure? I'm sure, as soon as you build for me a palace, I can find a lovely place to put it."

"Is that all, my love?" The Last Link smiled down at her wide-eyed face. "I have it right here...but you don't need to trouble yourself with it. It's nothing."

"Oh, _please_," the Princess said, almost jumping up and down like a little girl. Her lashes fluttered. "For me?"

The Last Link sighed theatrically. "How can I resist such purity given form as yourself?" His hand darted into his tunic, rummaged around, then pulled a tiny oak chest free from his belt. "This is it."

"It's..." she said. "I _can _use it. I can put it in my chambers – it will look so small and delightful."

"It's yours."

Gasping, her mouth open in surprise, Zelda stared at him in disbelief. The Last Link grinned. It brought such sweet joy to his heart to make her so happy. He prodded her with a soft voice. "Go on."

The Princess bit her lower lip, then gently took the treasure chest from his hands and stepped back. Seeing the bliss on her face, the Last Link wished he could capture the moment and forever lock it inside his heart.

"Thank you," she breathed. She took another step back. Giddy, the Last Link was sure she was about to burst into tears. His arms tensed, ready to comfort her – and, who knows, perhaps the comfort could lead to something a little more...warm? And if she resisted, of course, there was always torture. The Last Link grinned again as Zelda looked up once more and opened her mouth. "Thank you so very much." Her hand snapped shut around the treasure chest and, with a glint in her eye, she pursed her lips together and let fly with a short, sharp whistle.

The Last Link blinked, confused. "What are you-?"

With a resounding boom that sent the children running in shock, the double-doors flew off their hinges, careened off the walls and then spun to a sudden stop. The Last Link looked up, shocked. Framed in the open doorway, his cloak billowing around him, stood the Shadow Lord of Castleton, his eyes closed in serene contemplation, his face grim.

"No..." the Last Link breathed, striding towards the intruder. "It cannot be. That's just -"

The Shadow Lord's eyes flew open and his mouth split into a wicked grin. "Ah," he said, holding up a hand. "Allow me, mate. You're about to say this: '_Impossible! You were defeated! I killed you!_'" Link's eyes shone. "To which I can only say this: 'No! I can't live without her! Without her love, I am defeated! Finish me now, my life is at an end!'" Link chuckled, shaking his head. "I cannot _believe_ you _fell _for that, mate!"

The Last Link bellowed with rage, picked up his speed, and ran straight – into the Shadow Lord's fist. Flying head over heels, the Last Link soared backwards through the air, screaming all the while, then ploughed into the banquet table, food, cutlery and dishes spinning out of his path as he slid from one end to the other. Tumbling off the edge, he landed in a heap, gasping for breath. "Princess Zelda..." he whispered as he staggered to his feet. "My love! Come to my aid!"

The Princess voice came to him. "Oh, I'm _terribly_ sorry, I _do_ apologise." The Last Link looked up, and gaped as he saw the Shadow Lord's twisted grin mirrored on the Princess face. "Did I give you the impression that I actually _liked_ you?" Her grin instantly transformed itself into a mask of anger. "Let me just remedy that misconception." She stepped down hard on a bent silver platter, sending it spinning straight up. Plucking it out of the air with both hands, she swung around and smashed it straight into the Last Link's face, throwing him back into the middle of the room.

"I...I am betrayed," the Last Link breathed. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet once again and glanced ahead - there was the Shadow Lord, grinning – then glanced behind - there was the Princess, her arms crossed and her eyes blazing. He snarled, then snapped his hand into a fist. In response to the gesture, the banquet table shuddered once, twice, then split into a million tiny sharp-edged darts, a wall of wooden needles that curled up into the air. Responding to a flick of the Last Link's wrist, the darts all turned to face the Shadow Lord.

The Princess snapped her ahead around. "Children!" she cried, her voice commanding. "Hide!"

The Last Link opened his mouth to speak – but the Shadow Lord got there first. "Ah," he said. "Allow me again, mate. You're about to say this: _Fool! Do you not realise that this is the very mind of a Link? And, as such, I have complete mastery of every single atom in this room! Ha ha ha ha! Ha! Ha ha!'"_

The Last Link bellowed again and, with another flick of his wrist, sent the darts screaming in towards the Shadow Lord. Link stood his ground, his cloak billowing once more, and folded his arms across his chest as his grin grew just a notch wider. The darts began to spin, their razor-edged tips glowing with molten heat. Link threw back his head and cackled in response. He felt no fear, no anger, nothing except the dizzying sensation of being in total control of himself. The darts bore down on him growing larger and larger in his line of sight, larger and larger and – at the last possible moment, he snapped his fingers and the two double doors slid off the floor, flew into the air, then smashed into the oncoming hail of darts, exploding into a cloud of splinters. One single doorknob, polished brass glinting in the light, spun out from the churning mass and, with pinpoint accuracy, changed course in mid-air and cracked itself against the Last Link's brow.

"You forget two things, mate," the Shadow Lord said as the Last Link, rubbing his head, stared in bewildered incomprehension. "Number one – 'fool' isn't really that much of an insult. I mean, _everybody_ in your line of work uses it, and mate, take a good look at me, I'm not exactly cut to the heart now, am I? I'd suggest you expand your vocabulary a little. You may want to try a little extra reading'" He winked as the Last Link gaped in muted shock. "And number two – since this is, as you say, the mind of a Link and, as you mentioned, we have a mental connection, then all the fancy little powers that you have – floating in mid-air is one that I just picked up on the fly - I also have, too." He snickered. "Life really is unfair, isn't it?"

"Then," the Last Link said, pulling off his hat and rummaging inside. "I'll just have to take a more direct approach won't I?" He pulled a curved scimitar from the hat and held it up so that the sunlight could gleam off of it. "Ha ha ha! Ha! Ha ha!"

The Shadow Lord, feeling himself totally at peace, twirled his blade into his hand. "Oh, jolly good."

The Last Link ran, then rolled, then sprang up and then – now face-to-face with the Shadow Lord – swung in with a cut aimed for the head. The Shadow Lord met the blow the easily, his blade flying up to block as metal ploughed into metal. The Shadow Lord shoved his opponent away, stunned him with two elbows to the jaw, then split his tunic with a graceful thrust to the torso. Link whirled, bringing his blade around for a follow-up, but this time his opponent was too quick – sparks flew as the two swords crossed in the air.

Twirling aside, the Last Link disengaged, then crouched, swinging again, this time aiming to take the Shadow Lord's legs out from under him. The Shadow Lord leapt, made reality ripple with just a suggestion from his mind, and turning in mid-air, he bounced off a wall, corkscrewed over the Last Link's head, landed behind him, spun his opponent around and then sent his blade slicing through the man's chest. The Last Link staggered back with a yell, his hand flying to the blood seeping through the front of his tunic.

The Shadow Lord, his face hard, watched with detached amusement. "Don't," he whispered, stepping forward, "_ever,_" his voice gained a razor's edge of anger as he closed in on his opponent, "touch my wife again." His arm snapped up, aiming one last blow for the head -

The strike never hit home – the Last Link gave a small mental push and flung the Shadow Lord away from him. His cloak tangling around his limbs, Link found himself spinning as he flew, another wall looming up in his vision. He grit his teeth, wrapped his cloak around him, and let his mind reach out. Reality rippled again and his velocity decreased, slowing, slowing, slowing – with the gentlest of touches, he landed on the wall in a crouch. He looked up, saw the Last Link bearing down on him, scimitar at the ready, then coiled his muscles and launched himself from the wall.

Slitting the air apart like a spinning arrow, the Shadow Lord of Castleton drove on towards his opponent, then slammed straight into him, sending the Last Link flying. His opponent slid across the floor, rolled, then sprang back into an attack. He swung for Link's head; the Shadow Lord whirled into a duck. Snarling, the Last Link rode the momentum, then lunged in with a thrust; the Shadow Lord leapt into a back flip. Striding forward, the Last Link brought his scimitar around for another strike on the Shadow Lord's head – Link ducked, the blow missed and then, still crouching, the Princess Zelda leapt onto the Shadow Lord's back, disarmed their mutual enemy with a swift kick, then sent him crashing into a wall with a second.

The Last Link's head snapped against the marble, dazing him, before he slid to the ground in a heap. Above him, Navi's cage swung wildly from side to side. It creaked as it was buffeted by all the commotion – then snapped open with a _ping. _Navi flew straight down, her face twisted in anger. She hovered in front of the Last Link's face. "Hey!" she said cheerily. Her expression of anger turned into the wild grin the Shadow Lord and Shadow Lady excelled in. "I'd just like to say that, personally, I don't believe that violence really is the answer to anything." Her tiny hand curled into a fist."But, in a case like this, it would make me feel really really good."

There was a tiny slap.

A muted scream followed.

Another slap.

A groan of pain.

"Ouch," the Princess muttered under her breath. "I think I hurt my foot."

The Shadow Lord brushed dust from his hands. "Nicely done, love."

A slap.

A howl.

"Don't mention it," Zelda replied. The two began walking side by side. "The poor fool – I pity him. He was under the impression that a handsome face and some excitement were all that I wanted. He actually thought that the most powerful of magic was enough to completely wipe out years and years of marriage."

"Ah," said Link. "Not too smart, then, despite the rather dashing name."

Slap.

Scream.

"Here," said the Princess. "Take this." She threw him the tiny treasure chest of the Ancients.

"Thanks, love," said Link. "I must say that I liked the way you tapped his collar. Nice signal."

"Yes," she replied, secretly pleased at his praise but smiling modestly anyway, "I'd thought you'd get that."

It was, the Shadow Lord mused, something the two of them had devised after the countless diplomatic trips the Princess had had to make over the years. Usually the Ambassador of whichever foreign state they happened to be in would sidle up to the Princess during some fancy-do, waiting until she was dancing with her husband – and so distracted – to besiege her with requests. Link had gotten tired of the whole charade and had almost lost his temper many times. It was then that the Princess would, while in his arms, tap him on the collar – a sign for him to go along with whatever she was saying to the Ambassador no matter how ridiculous it sounded, to go along with it because they both knew that, so long as they curried the Ambassador's favour there and then on the dance floor, she'd be able to get the advantage later during the real negotiations.

Slap.

Sob.

"That's the kind of thing," the Princess went on, "that this impostor of a man truly couldn't fathom."

The Shadow Lord grinned. "You weren't in the least bit tempted, then? He is devilishly handsome, if I may say so myself."

"Not really, " she replied, still smiling. "I suppose his magic did have a small effect, but it was no match against the memories of your little tantrums."

"Nothing ever is." Link laughed. "You alright, then?"

Zelda sniffed. "Oh, you know, if it wasn't for the poison coursing through my veins at this very moment, I'd be the very picture of health. You?"

"Can't complain."

"I suppose you were just passing through and thought you might rescue me when you had a bit of free time, then?"

"As usual."

"Oh."

"I am a bit hungry, though."

Slap.

Gurgle.

"Link, you did remember to give the Castle workers their annual gifts, didn't you?"

"Yes, dear."

"And the alms to the orphans on Spire Road?"

"Yes, dear."

"And I _do _hope you remembered to take out the junk from the dungeons, it really was beginning to take on a rather unattractive odour."

The Shadow Lord had the grace to look suitably sheepish. "_Yes_, dear."

Slap.

Whimper.

Link gazed at the Princess, one corner of his mouth turned up in a lop-sided grin. "I missed you."

The Princess lips twitched, as though she wanted to resist a smile, but found that she couldn't. She grinned back at him. "I missed you, too," she whispered. Her eyes widened as he reached for her, and she stepped back. "No, Link." Seeing his hurt look, she softened her words. "I want to, but I'm not here – at least, not completely, not like how you and Navi are here. I'm back in Castleton with the children." She gestured at the tiny huddled faces that gazed out from the darkest corners of the room. "I don't understand it myself – I'm not sure how _he _could touch me in this world - but you have to hurry, we don't have much time."

Disappointment lined the Shadow Lord's face, but he understood. "I'm on it, love."

Zelda looked down at the Last of the Links one last time, her eyes brimming over with pity. "Magic..." she whispered, shaking her head. "I wonder where he got the idea that he could use magic. I certainly don't have any magic to make someone fall in love."

The Shadow Lord coughed awkwardly. "Oh," said Link, his voice suddenly softening. "I think you do."

The Princess glanced up at him, saw the intensity of his gaze, and smiled in response.

Suddenly clearing his throat, the Shadow Lord walked over to his fallen opponent. "Just one last thing – um, Navi, if you could just desist from that for a moment, if you'd be so kind?"

The Fairy looked up, startled, her tiny hand frozen in mid-slap. "Sorry."

Grabbing him by his collar, the Shadow Lord dragged the Last of the Links to his feet.

"Link," said Zelda, her hand flying to her chest as her emerald eyes grew wide. "You're not going to kill him, are you?"

"Well, he certainly deserves it, you must admit, love," he growled. Seeing the earnest look she was giving him, Link let himself smile. "No," he said. "I'm not." He pulled the sagging form of the Last Link to the opal portal. Ghostly images flashed in the jewel's skin – a million different Links, a million different Zeldas, some happy, some sad, some in battle, some at peace. Focusing on one particular world – one where there existed a strange mystical place known as 'The Gate', the Link there appeared to have a tattooed face and, as past and present merged, it turned out that the Queen Zelda would eventually lose a hand – the Shadow Lord dragged the Last of the Links to the portal and leaned in close. "Perchance here in this new world you'll have a little time to reflect on your actions." The Shadow Lord flashed him a quick grin, then shoved the Last of the Links through the opal portal.

The whole chamber exploded into pure light. Blinking, the Shadow Lord waited for the dark spots to fade from his vision. He looked around. The chamber was gone. The opal portal was gone. Navi floated around his head, bewildered herself. On the floor, twitching and unconscious, was the Fairy Queen. Nowhere could the Shadow Lord see his Princess. She was back in Castleton after all.

The sound of running footsteps reached them. Link glanced up, saw the rest of his party and-

"Naviiiiiiii!" Hawthorne shot past his head and slammed into Navi with a fierce hug. They rolled in the air, giggling and crying at the same time.

"We saw everything," Simon said, out of breath.

The Shadow Lord raised an eyebrow. "Everything?"

"Mostly everything," Excellent Radcliffe replied, smiling as she gave Link an odd look.

"I say," Mr Red said. "Jolly good show, what?" He peered down at the Fairy Queen. "Where did she come from, hmm?"

"I don't know," Link said, trying to make himself heard as Navi and Hawthorne squealed in delight at their reunion. "I suppose she was in there all along. Only popped out when her master was conveniently dispatched of." He flipped the time crystal into his hand, his lips thinning as he saw the second hand half-way between eleven and twelve. "We don't have much time. We need to get out of here."

"I'll take you out." It was Excellent, still smiling. She shrugged as Link's gaze fell upon her. "At least as far as the exit to Killyjanmaro."

The Salvage Hunter and the Shadow Lord held each other's gazes for a moment. Link smiled. "Thanks, love." He motioned to the others. "Let's move out."


	14. The War of the Fairies

**14 – The War of the Fairies**

_Thirty minutes to go..._

"Or maybe not." Excellent Radcliffe stood at the bow of her vessel, one hand on her hip, the other on the ship's wheel, her long hair streaming behind her. The Colour Ship screamed through the air, rocking wildly from port to starboard, her crew scampering around the deck, pulling at the billowing sails, snapping down all the latches and desperately trying to tieevery single loose item down.

Link, clinging on for dear life, put one hand over his brow and stared at the Salvage Hunter. "Maybe not what, love?"

Excellent pointed. Up ahead, set into a moss covered rocky wall, a wedge of bright light grew steadily larger and larger as the ship bore down on it. "Maybe I won't just drop you off at the exit," she said. "Maybe I'll take you straight through, it'll mean a speedy journey for you."

The Shadow Lord, no longer caring why the occasional rhyme was so important to these people,glanced down at the time crystal, squinting as the howling wind whipped his hair into his eyes. There were just ten plus one score minutes left before he'd lose Zelda forever. His hand tightened around the crystal. Outwardly, he was the same calm, confident head of a small town he'd always been. Inwardly, the tendrils of true fear drummed against his heart.

"That would be appreciated, love," he called, looking up. "But isn't that opening up there a little small for your motley ship?"

"Don't worry about that," Excellent called back. She flicked him a bemused glance. "The Guardian of the Temple...he looked just like you. When I first met you, I thought you _were_ him."

"I'd love to explain it all, love," Link replied. "But to be honest, I find the whole thing tedious. Let's just say that I don't lead the most normal of lives."

"I can see that," she replied. "Risking all for the woman you love? I didn't think men indulged in that kind of venture. At least, not anymore."

Link grinned. "That's the thing, isn't it, love?" he replied. "Men just don't know how to be men nowadays."

"Oh no?" Excellent quickly added. "You cut through here destroying all in your path just for one thing that you wanted." A sour smile touched her lips. "I'd say that that was pretty atypical."

The Shadow Lord winced. "And I've apologised already. I'll find another portrait for you – exactly the same."

"If you do that," she said. "If you manage to show that little bit of honour, then I'll consider you a real man."

"I promise, love," Link replied, his voice level. "I promise."

Excellent held his gaze for a moment, studying the earnest almost strangely innocent expression on his face. She turned away. "We'll see."

"Hey!" It was Simon, his arms waving frantically as General Tedious made a living barrier between the young man and the Salvage Hunter captain. He tried to surge forward; the good General shoved him back each time. "I'm a real man! Just try me!"

Excellent closed her eyes, her head shaking minutely.

Simon seethed in frustration. "Look-" he flinched as General Tedious coughed in his face "- if you don't give me a chance...I'll...I'll...I'll throw myself overboard!"

Leaning back so that she could confer with the Shadow Lord in relative privacy, Excellent whispered, "Is he always like this?"

"What," said Link, "you mean is he always desperate for death regardless of the fact of whether he's deliriously happy or utterly despondent?"

"Yes."

"I'm afraid so, love."

"Nothing can be done for him?"

"You could always relent to his demands and fall hopelessly in love with him."

Excellent chewed on the inside of her cheek in thought. "How about we just kill him?"

"So long as," Simon called, their words finally carrying over to him, "I die by your hands, I will die a happy and content man." He struggled as Tedious pushed him back yet again. "A real man, too, I hasten to add."

Excellent sighed. Her eyes, unfazed by the way her ship changed from cherry red to bruised purple to a spurt of yellow, swept across the deck. She saw the Fairy Queen tied to the mast, Navi and Hawthorne whizzing around her brandishing a featherthat they used, she assumed, to inflict some sort of strange torture that only Fairies would understand. Sitting quietly on the deck, an eye of calm in the hurricane of frantic movement around him, there sat a smiling Mr Red. What he found so amusing Excellent couldn't possibly guess.

She tapped the immense wheel in front of her. A small compartment opened, revealing a grease-stained lever. Glancing up, she saw the opening to the outside world grow wider and wider as they neared at breakneck speed. "All hands!" she cried, grasping the lever. "Prepare for contraction!"

The Shadow Lord blinked. "Contraction?"

Excellent grinned as she pulled the lever. "Contraction!"

Link gasped as all the air left his lungs. Reality began to thin – literally – the ship shrinking to the shape of an arrow, then a hair, then as slender as the finest edge of a scroll. Link felt himself become compressed, felt every atom in his body dwindle to nothing more than a pinprick. Falling to the ground, his heart boomed in his ears, the world around him a blur that roared and raged against the thin thread of his existence. He heard something snap. He heard something go _ping. _He felt something heavy fall into his lap.

The ship burst out into the gleaming Killyjanmaro sky, soared through a wispy cloud, then swooped down, curving in towards the land as, slowly, it began to began to expand, regaining its regular, more fuller appearance. Excellent, her whole body tingling from the experience, let out a long long breath, looked up – and shrieked as the hissing dark shape of a Mountbasten dragon screamed in on a collision course for her ship.

Fear made her freeze for a heartbeat then, her senses coming back in a flash, she slapped the wheel, sending it into a wild spin. The ship lurched as it banked sharply to the left, the crew screaming as they slid uncontrollably across the deck. Ropes snapped like twigs and lanterns cracked in two. Excellent grabbed onto the wheel as the dragon flew harmlessly overhead, then pulled her ship upright, sweat breaking across her brow from the wash of searing heat radiating from the reptillian beast.

Link sat, dazed, desperately trying to still the hammering of his heart. Something heavy was still in his lap. He looked down at it.

"Sorry!" the thing in his lap said. "It's just my head! It's just popped off, that's all!"

With a snarl the Shadow Lord sent the ReDead's head rolling across the deck. Satisfied that he wasn't permanently damaged from that little jaunt, he jumped to his feet. The wind in his face, Link clawed his way up to where Excellent stood by the wheel, and then peered over the edge of the bow. Squinting, Link saw the fields and trees spin beneath him. Killyjanmaro merged into the familiar swaying tree-tops of Kokiri Forest. Lips pursed, the Shadow Lord searched and searched and…

"There!" he cried, pointing. "Put us down there, love!"

Everyone bar Excellent screamed as the ship plummeted to the ground in a spiralling dive, their stomachs rising swiftly as a result. The Colour Ship tore into the earth, a tidal wave of mud and soil churning up in its wake. Link felt his teeth chatter as the ship began to slow, shuddering and creaking all the while. The sharp grassy scent of fresh earth assaulted him, dead branches and dried leaves scratching at his face. With one final lurch, the ship juddered to a halt. Link wiped a clod of mud from his face and glared up at Excellent. The Salvage Hunter, both hands on her lips, stood wearing an expression of pure self-satisfaction. "Well!" she said cheerily. "I got you here, didn't I?"

_Seventeen minutes to go…_

The Leader of the Righteous Keepers of the Flame looked at the newcomers with a sour look on his face. A plank of wood, only moments ago an integral part of the hut that was his home, dropped onto his head. "Did you have to land your monstrosity of a ship exactly on the spot where we Brothers lived?"

"It wasn't intentional, mate," Link said, irritated by all the distractions. He had to get these Fairies to Zelda. He only hoped that whatever was in the treasure chest would be enough to unite the two factions. "Honest."

The Leader regarded him coolly. All around him, armed to the teeth and twitching in anticipation, his Brothers trained their bows on the Service Fairies – equally ready for a fight – standing across the glade, the immense bulk of the strange multicoloured ship towering above them. "It's just," he went on, "I had a soft spot for the place."

"Sorry," the woman named Excellent said, looking sheepish.

"I even had special curtains made…lovely ones, with lace."

Hawthorne rolled her eyes. "They said they were sorry, didn't they?"

"With embroidered flowers…you know how hard it is to get those done?"

One of the Brothers stepped forward. "Yellow flowers weren't they, boss?"

"Yes!" the Leader cried. "You're familiar with them?"

The Brother sniffed, tears brimming in his eyes. "I thought they were really lovely myself."

"I know!"

Hawthorne noisily cleared her throat.

"And," the Brother went on, "the lovely little petals they made with the white silk. Enough to bring a grown man to his knees."

The Leader gazed into the distance. "Poetry in stitches."

Hawthorne threw a rock at the Leader's head. He blinked, startled, then quickly composed himself.

Link stood, his eyes thinning as, suddenly, the temperature dropped. "I do not have the time for this, _mate_."

The Leader glared, the muscles in his cheek twitching. "The Treasure," he said at last, licking his lips. "You have it?"

Hawthorne plucked it from the Shadow Lord's belt, then placed it on the ground between the two groups of Fairies. "It's here, no doubt."

There was a moment's silence as the Fairies gazed at the tiny wooden box in awe. Some had tears in their eyes. Some stood, blank-faced. Others rubbed oil on their weapons, casting wary glances at their opponents. The Leader, his heart trembling, reached out for the lock –

And found his path barred as Hawthorne snapped her own hand around his wrist. He glanced up to meet her pointed glare. "I think," she said, "it would be better, no doubt, if someone a little more neutral opened the chest." She gestured at Link.

The Leader, seeing all eyes upon him, forced himself to smile. "So be it."

"Oh, I'm honoured, mates," the Shadow Lord said, crouching as he gently picked the chest up with two fingers. "I'm sure there's some blindingly beautiful jewel upon which is written the sage words you all seek. Maybe a tiny goblet of pure gold, or a silver medallion. I'm sure-" he flicked the chest open and froze, open-mouthed. He pulled the Treasure out. "You went to war over a piece of cloth?" he gaped. "You killed, slaughtered and maimed just for a shred of fabric?"

"Wars have been fought for less, I assure you," the Leader snapped, feeling suddenly defensive. "Besides, it's the symbolism, what the cloth stands for, not the actual-" His words died in his throat as the Shadow Lord, his eyes still narrowed, pierced him with a withering look. The Leader glared back, uncomfortable but defiant. "Read it, then."

The Shadow Lord brought the tiny piece of cloth close to his eyes. "'Here is written the single precept by which the Ancient Order of the Fairies have declared that all their descendents should live by.'" Link cleared his throat. The Fairies leaned in close, their eyes wide. "'It is hereby decreed that the race of Faerie are no ordinary race-'" The Leader's eyes gleamed at this "'- and, in fact, it would not be too presumptuous to say that Fairies, amongst all the creatures of Hyrule, have been singled out for a Higher Purpose, a Greater Ideal-'"

"Ha!" the Leader crowed, beaming. "Exactly as I suspected. We, the Fairies, should rule Hyrule." He rubbed his hands. "Now, to begin with the preparations-"

"Let him finish," Hawthorne cut in, her voice icy. "Let him read the rest."

"Thanks, love," the Shadow Lord said, winking. "Now, as I was saying." He began to read again. "'…Fairies, amongst all the creatures of Hyrule, have been singled out for a Higher Purpose, a Greater Ideal – and that Ideal is, simply, to help and to serve.'" The Service Fairies exploded into whooping cheers. The Leader, stunned,slumped to the ground, ashen-faced. "That's it," Link added, smiling. A frown creased his face. "That's _it?"_ The Shadow Lord shook his head. "If that's all it takes for you to go to war, it's a wonder you haven't wiped each other out already." He began muttering under his breath. "Probably start killing each other over whose turn it is to walk the dog or something."

"Wait!" the Leader cried, desperate to make himself heard over the celebrations. "Isn't there anymore? Check, man, be thorough."

Link, himself desperate to get to Castleton, took one last glance at the Treasure. His eyebrows arched.

"What is it?" the Leader gasped, springing back to his feet and craning forward.

"I missed a bit."

"Yes?"

"It says here…"

"_Yes?_"

"You're not going to like it, mate."

"_Tell me!_"

Link sighed. "'Please take good care of our Fido. He's a rather precocious little dog, but he does like his little walks, though not in bright light. Please don't feed him after midnight. And don't let him get wet.'"

The Leader sank to his knees in despair. All around him, the Brothers of the Eternal Flame snapped their bows in two.

"Now," the Shadow Lord went on. "I believe we have an accord…?"

"No," the Leader growled, his face downcast.

"Excuse me?"

"I said 'no.'"

There was a flutter of wings and the sound of a bowstring snapped taut. The Leader looked up, his mouth dropping open in shock. Mr C faced him, the Love Fairy's arrow trained on the Leader's chest. "Et tu, Cupid?"

"Quit whining, fool," Mr C said. "Get your sorry self together, sucka. We're going to help – all of us."

Link sprang to his feet and snapped his fingers. "To Castleton!"

_Six minutes to go…_

"Six minutes, Milady," Tingle said, smiling sadly. Ruto sat at Zelda's bedside in the hushed chamber, her features pinched. Tingle touched her hand. "I'm sure he tried."

"I know." Ruto managed a smile. They were going to lose, she realised, anguish stabbing at her heart. For the first time they were going to lose. The scent of cloves and aloe clung to the air - to the Zora it suddenly became the scent of death.

The silence broke as, with the realisation that all was lost, some of the parents began to weep gazed down at the Princess' gaunt face, watching as the life slowly drained out, as though Zelda was slowly metamorphising into an ice-cold marble statue. The thought brought hot tears to the Zora's eyes.

A pitcher of water stood on the table beside the Princess' bed, stroked by the flickering flame of a slowly melting candle.Watching the liquid intently, Ruto noticed circular ripples begin to radiate out from the centre. Slowly at first, but growing steadily louder as the Zora sat there transfixed, a deep rumble began to wash through the air. Ruto looked up at the immense oval window set in one side of the room; the size of two large huts it was the only source of sunlight in the chamber. And it was steadily becoming darker.

_An eclipse?_ she mused. _Surely not._

Others began to glance up now, the whole chamber shaking. The window frames trembled. Pictures fell off walls. Glass shattered. Someone screamed. Ruto's mouth went dry as she stared at the window – a dark blur was approaching, looming larger and larger.

"Eep!" she squeaked.

The window exploded into a million sparkling fragments. Ruto, her head ringing from the din, shrank back in her chair as a streamlined arrowhead of pure colour – first sherbet pink, then burning angry scarlet, then plunging into pure black – ploughed into the chamber. The iron pillars that made up the foundations of the castle screamed in protest, rent in two and dragged across the floor.

Ruto stared at the strange multi-coloured thing now sitting in the centre of the chamber. She looked left. She looked right. She stared up at it again. Shafts of fractured sunlight framed the shimmering thing -it was then that she realised that it was actually shaped like a ship -in the gaping hole that once was the window. Masonry fell from the ceiling and, hitting the floor, disintegrated into fine powder.

Silence fell. Ruto tore her eyes away from the ship to search out Tingle's familiar face. She found him, and he gestured, signalling that no-one had been hurt. Slowly nodding, her mouth still hanging open, the Zora turned back to the strange apparition once more.

A familiar voice echoed out. "Does no-one on this accursed ship know how to steer the bloody thing?"

Ruto grinned. "Link!"

His cloak trailing behind him, the Shadow Lord leapt from the multi-colouredship and landed on the floor in a crouch. His face blank, he walked slowly up to Zelda's bed and gazed down, his eyes shining. "How is she?"

"Still the same," Ruto replied. A molten glow of hope rose in her heart. "Do you have the cure?"

Link gazed up. "Gentlemen, ladies," he called. "Time to go to work."

One-by-one, filling every space in the chamber, tiny lights began to wink into life as the Fairies made their entrance. The parents of Castleton shrank back, huddling protectively around their respective offspring.

The lights began to congeal, growing brighter and brighter, curling ribbons of different incandescent colours – lime, cherry, orange – sparked around the room, coiling around the children and the Princess, covering themfrom head to foot. A red glow blossomed here, a green spark plumed there – very soon the whole room was completely engulfed in pure, undiluted light.

Confused shrieks rang around Ruto's ears as she shielded her eyes. People were looking around in fright, desperately trying to find something to hide themselves from the brilliant glow. The only person who appeared unfazed was the Shadow Lord of Castleton himself. He stood, as still as a statue, and fixed the Princess with an intense stare. His eyes shone - whether from hope, concern or a combination of the two, the Zora couldn't tell.

The light faded, the chamber filled now with dark, dismal shadows. Ruto, blinking to rid herself from the blots etched onto her eyes, stoop and and steppedover to the Princess bed. She gazed down, rested one palm against Zelda's still-sleeping face. She felt all eyes burning into her - it was as though the whole world was holding its breath. Her throat tightened, her mouth sagging. "It didn't work," she said, her voice tiny and forlorn.

Wails of anguish cut through the air like a burning arrow through clarfied butter. The parents of Castleton fell upon their children in tears, chest heaving, bodies shuddering. Link continued to stare at the Princess, his face blank. Slowly he stepped up to her side. He stood there for a moment as Navi and the others slowly disembarked from the ship.

Leaning down, the Shadow Lord kissed the Princess gently on the mouth. Her lips were ice-cold, he realised, her face stiff. The warmth of his wife had dissipated, lost in the beyond like a feather caught in the wind and tugged away on the breeze. Still silent, the Shadow Lord of Castleton set his prized hat down upon his beloved's face.

Navi's tiny fingers gripped Link's shoulder. He looked up, saw the tears streaming from her reddened eyes. "Sometimes…" she sniffed. "Sometimes you just have to let go."

"Not if you trust," he replied automatically. There was no hint of emotion in his voice. "Not if you trust."

Link turned away. The chamber was dark, unnaturally so, the shadows stretched as though grinning. Laughing. They were laughing at him. Finally, he'd been outwitted. Finally, his luck had run out. Row upon row of anguished faces greeted him. His head began to spin, his legs growing weak. He closed his eyes to shut it all out

"Why," a new voice croaked, weak and faint, "pray may I ask, is there a sillly green hat on my face?"

Link swivelled around, almost jumping. "Love!" he cried, falling to his knees besides Zelda's bed. "You're alive! You were lying there and I thought you were dead and we'd all failed and I was being laughed at, but you're alive! Alive!"

"Yes, I am," she replied. "Now could you please get this hat off of me? The smell is atrocious."

The Shadow Lord grinned, swiping the hat back into his grasp. The Princess, her face frail, looked up at him with dull eyes and smiled. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Link stilled her by quickly placing a finger on her lips.

The realisation that all was well ran through the chamber like a rush of water released from a dam. As palpable relief swept everyone up into a confused mess of delayed apologies, heartfelt thanks and spontaneous proclamations of unexpressed love, the Shadow Lord and Shadow Lady remained an island of restrained calm, hand in hand, smiling at each other. They didn't speak. They didn't cry. They didn't fall apart. They already knew, knew each other inside and out. They didn't have to say anything.

Anything at all.


	15. Epilogue

**15 – Epilogue**

In a lush garden set on an outcropping high above Hyrule, Princess Zelda gazed out over the waters of Lake Hylia, watching the broken sunlight glistening upon the waves. A rainbow of flowers swayed in the breeze around her, the myriad sweet scents making her nose twitch in pleasant delight. She took in a deep breath, her spirits soaring as a result, then made her way down the winding path that cut through the garden, her handmaidens trailing behind her. Link had ordered this garden built for her, a place where she could rest away from the world, a solitary place for her to find a balm against life's little worries. He'd sent her here now – much to her protest – to recover from her recent ordeal.

To be honest, even though she wouldn't admit it out loud, she did need the rest. Her body had been weakened by the poison, though, thankfully she liked to think that her mind was just as healthy as ever. A sigh blew through her lips - was this to be her fate, then? Would her life never truly be normal?

As the waves beneath lapped soothingly against the shore beneath, Zelda pushed the traitorous thoughts away. Wallowing in self-pity was far too indulgent, even for a Princess. This _was _her life - along with her husband, the Shadow Lady of Castleton made sure that the people of Hyrule could rest peacefully in their beds each and every night. They made sure that both the adults of the land and, as recent events had revealed, the children, too came to no harm. This was her life and, despite the hardship and the sacrifices, she adored it. She was, as she'd promised long ago, doing _good._

The Princess let her hand trail over the flowers, dragging petals and stems gently in her wake. The stems bent and, just at the last moment, she let go, allowing them to spring back upright. So it was with her, she mused in a sudden moment of poetic reflection – she could bend, but she wouldn't break. Lost in her reverie, a dreamy expression on her face, the Shadow Lady paid no attention to the path ahead of her. Her sandals tripped over a loose stone and she wobbled on her feet, almost stumbling.

Her handmaidens rushed to her side, their fingers coming to rest on her elbow. "Mistress!" said one. "Let us help!" said the other.

Gently, she pulled her way out of their grasp. "No," she said, making sure not to let her irritation show. "I'm fine."

"But-"

"_Thank _you for your concern." She smiled to soften her words. "But I can manage."

Disbelieving looks flitted across the young girls' faces but they reluctantly let her be.

Zelda walked on. People tended to underestimate her like that, she mused. She was no delicate flower that needed to be coddled, that was for sure. Why was it that those considered compassionate –not that that was how she viewed herself anyway - were treated with mild disdain, as though they were children or slightly insane? The Princess shook her head. It was a sad reflection on the world she lived where the natural state of being for all people was thought to be nothing more than undue aggression and shallow self-centredness.

The Shadow Lady stopped at a small tree where, hidden deep in the branches, she found a nest of small sparrows. One young bird bobbed its head as she reached out to stroke it. Her eyes searched the bird's wing, saw that it was mending well – she'd been nursing it back to health ever since she'd found it, broken and forlorn, at the entrance to the garden – and smiled.

There was a rustle in the air. A prickling sensation ran down the Princess' back like ice-cold water. Zelda glanced at the ivy-covered trellises that hemmed the garden in and, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a dark shape hanging against the wooden beams. She turned to face it, but it moved just a fraction too quick, its eyes tracing her path. The Shadow Lady smiled.

"Leave me," she said, turning to her handmaidens.

Their eyes grew. "But-"

"I'll be safe." She softened the command with another smile. "Don't worry."

"We really shouldn't, mistress!"

"Then just stay at the entrance," said Zelda. "If I need you, I'll shout." She took them both by the hands and smiled warmly. "Don't worry. It's just a garden."

Zelda watched them go, shaking her head every time they tried to surreptitiously glance over their shoulders, then stood alone, the waves of Lake Hylia whispering against the land beneath her. She flicked at a flower, pollen powdering up into the air as a result. It was silent, except for those same rippling waters and the sounds of faint scratching, as though small animals were scurrying around unseen. The Shadow Lady hugged herself and smiled. "You can come out now, Link."

Her breath left her in an instant as her husband leapt into the garden, took her within his arms and twirled her around, laughing. She had the briefest sight of his face, the slightest hint of his scent before his lips were upon hers and she was lost in the moment, her heart thudding in her chest, her breath lost again. She tried to pull away, but he held her firm, hungrily swallowing her in his embrace. She relented, losing herself once again.

The water sighed from below. The leaves rustled in the slight breeze. An eternity passed - or was it just a few moments? - and, at last, they parted, the Shadow Lady resting her head against Link's shoulder. "Missed me, then?" she asked, smiling.

"A little," the Shadow Lord replied, beaming with barely contained delight. "How did you know it was me, love?"

"You have to ask?"

The Hero of Time laughed. Arm in arm they walked down the path, leaves swirling around their legs, overhanging branches, sprinkled with sunlight, shading them from the midday heat. Link paused, crouched, then swept a crimson rose from one of the flowerbeds. Turning to the Princess, he pushed the stem into her hair and brushed the last few loose strands of her blonde hair back. Her hand reached up automatically to touch the flower, a smile playing on her lips.

They passed the tree once more and, without a word, Link fished into his hat, pulled out a small morsel of food and then flicked it into the baby sparrow's open beak. Watching her husband, Zelda was reminded once again about how so many people had protested their union – you're too different, they said. You don't have anything in common, they said.

They were wrong. Link and herself did have much in common, they just expressed it in different ways. They weren't exactly the same people, but they were similar enough – they complemented one another. It wouldn't work for many people in a similar situation, she knew. But she and Link were different – at their core they were both principled and committed. They worked. They _made _it work. Most people, those looking for instant gratification – the type of people Link loathed - wouldn't have the patience for it. They, on the other hand, had both been forced to learn patience, simply by the virtue of the never-ending experiences thrust upon them.

"Link," she said, a playful note to her voice. "How many times have I told you not to put food in your hat? I'm surprised it doesn't just fall all over your head."

The Shadow Lord looked sheepish. She always found that particular look quite charming. "Sorry, love."

"How's Castleton?"

Link let out a frustrated breath. "Terrible," he said. "Sign this, resolve that, listen to so-and-so – the same old dreary routine and it was getting a tad too overwhelming. Had to get away. That's why I'm here."

Zelda pursed her lips. The affairs of Castleton were something they usually handled together. "I should be there."

"No, you shouldn't, love," he replied, fixing her with a pointed stare. "You should be here – resting."

"Like you're doing right now," she said. "Well, you needed the-"

"I came for _you, _love."

The words were so simple, but the earnestness flooding his voice made the Princess' heart surge with love. "Stop here," she said, motioning to a bench set beside a bed of myriad flowers – an explosion of colour themselves – surrounding a small fountain, the spray catching the glint of the sunlight above. The water shone, as though the fountain was a nothing more than a plume of tiny, sparkling diamonds. The Princess sat herself down on the bench, one leg curling under the other, a sandal dangling from the end of her foot. Link laid his head upon her lap, and they sat there for a moment, the fountain gurgling beside them, saying nothing. They didn't have to.

Finally, the Shadow Lord opened his mouth. "Are you-"

"-getting better? Yes, I am." They both smiled. "Thank you."

"You know what, love?"

"Pray tell," Zelda replied, running a hand through his hair.

"I was thinking...when we record our last little expedition into the archive scrolls, I thought of a rather splendid little title we could give it."

"And that title would be?"

A beat, then: "'The Three Links Adventure.'"

The Shadow Lady blinked, one eyebrow arched. "That's almost as bad as your last title for that little quest we had to do last year."

Link gazed up at her from her lap, his mouth open in shock. "What was wrong with the last one?"

"It was silly."

"'The Four Swords Adventure!'" he said. "What's wrong with 'The Four Swords Adventure?' Was there, or was there not, Four Swords involved? Was there not a talking hat, a Red Potion drought, and a vicious megalomaniac cucco bent on world domination? Does that not, I ask, qualify as an adventure?"

"Link," she replied, her patient voice level. "It's the most imbecilic title I've heard in my entire life." She quickly changed track. "Now...tell me something…"

"Anything."

"Tell me about your 'motley crew' of adventurers. The other people who helped you to help me, I mean. How are they doing now?"

"Well," the Shadow Lord replied, stroking his chin in thought, "Mr. Red and his rather unstable mate the ReDead have ventured out into a little business enterprise for themselves."

"Oh?"

"Yes, love," Link went on. "Old Red was tickled by the whole treasure hunt razzmatazz we got caught up in and so he's decided that he and the Dead One are going to go around searching for…um…"

"For…?"

The Shadow Lord looked sheepish once again, as though embarrassed to have been associated with such people. "For bon-bons." He cleared his throat. "For the little ones."

"Sweet!"

"Yes, precisely." He rummaged under his hat. "They had a gift for you." He pulled out a long, thin box padded with velvet and handed it over to the Princess. She looked at it warily, then asked, "What is it?"

"The ReDead's finger."

"Lovely."

Zelda drummed a finger of her own against her lips, surreptitiously hiding the gift behind a small tree just behind her. A gust of wind scattered her hair, once more spraying the sweet scent of pollen into her face. Her nose twitched yet again, her ears picking out the twittering of the birds nearby. She took in a deep breath, then asked the question that had been preying on her mind since she'd heard the whole escapade related to her. "What about," she said slowly, "that pirate lady? Excellent, I think her name was?"

"Oh, you know," Link replied, studying his fingernails. "She's doing what she does best – salvage hunting."

The Shadow Lady gazed out across the garden. "I heard," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye, "that she liked you. That you both had a lot in common."

Link looked up at the Princess, grinning. "Jealous, are you?"

"No," she replied truthfully. "Just curious."

"Well, maybe she did…but the poor love realised that it wasn't to be." He winked. "I am taken after all."

Zelda raised an eyebrow. "You mean she came to her senses and realised that you were nothing more than a mental mess of a man having lived across two time zones and, instead of a normal childhood, you had to twice battle against evil creatures that most people won't even think of unless in their most horrific of nightmares?"

Link's face wore an expression of mock-hurt. "_You _married me, didn't you?"

"Your insanity makes you adorable."

"Oh."

"And I love you."

"I know."

Zelda smiled. "What about her picture?" she asked. "I heard you went a bit extreme with it."

Once again, the Shadow Lord looked abashed. "I got her a new one," he replied. "Had to go on another quest for it, too. In the end there were five to choose from, all but one having a slight flaw that separated it from the original and I had to…hey…" he trailed off and snapped his fingers. "The Five Portraits Adventure! That's a splendid title!"

"And," the Shadow Lady continued, ignoring him, "what did she say when you gave the picture to her? Was she pleased?"

Link's face creased into a frown. "That's the thing I couldn't quite fathom, love," he said, genuine puzzlement in his voice. "She was polite and thankful and everything…but she didn't seem happy."

"That's because," Zelda explained, "it wasn't the same. Because it wasn't the first anymore, and _she _wasn't the one who went to the effort to get it."

"I just wanted her to learn not to get so bleeding attached to the thing."

"I know."

Link shrugged, unrepentant. "Maybe she'll have learned her lesson this time."

"Maybe."

"But what if she doesn't, love?"

"Then it doesn't matter." She smiled when he opened his mouth to protest. "Don't fret over it, Link."

"Oh," the Shadow Lord added. "She _was _happy about one thing, though."

Zelda gazed down at him, expectant. "Which was…?"

"Her and young Simon DeLance."

"No!"

"Yes!"

The Princess grinned. "They're together?"

"Absolutely," Link replied. "Can't separate them anymore."

"That's wonderful!"

"Yes," the Shadow Lord said. "She tied him to the front of her ship and so, whenever he gets all funny and trance-like again, she can just pop over the side, ask him to point out where the relevant treasure is and, Ganon's your uncle, Nabooru's your aunt, there's a nice shiny pile of rather expensive 'salvage' for our little missy."

"Oh."

Link rubbed the bridge of his nose as he watched her intently. Zelda flicked him an amused glance. She knew what was coming. "What?" she teased.

"You didn't ask how I was!"

The Princess looked away, disinterested. "You look a picture of health to me."

"Actually," he replied. "I went through various horrors just to get here. Terrible business it was. Shocking."

"No!" she gasped theatrically.

"I was," he whispered conspiratorially, "pricked by a thorn."

Zelda flashed him a teasing smile. "Poor baby."

"I'm glad you think so," Link said, smirking.

The Shadow Lady laughed and shook her head. "Pumpkinhead."

A look of almost childlike surprise flickered over Link's face. He let himself fall into the little game, his voice taking on an extra edge. "Pumpkinhead…pumpkinhead…" He let his finger rest against his lips, as though in deep thought. "That's a name I haven't heard since, oh before you were born."

"What?"

"I'm just playing, love."

Zelda took on a pensive look. "Just playing…when I was…in thrall…to that other man –" she refused to call him 'Link' "-I had to play being his lover. I never thought I had that kind of deception in me."

Link shrugged. "I certainly thought you did."

The Princess glanced down at him. "Oh?"

"Yes…" he replied.

"I did the right thing?"

"You did what needed to be done." He grinned his ever-present grin. "I see that I've taught you well. I am pleased." She laughed and, after a moment, the Shadow Lord joined in. "Besides," he went on, "I wasn't in the least bit worried."

"No?"

"No." His eyes gleamed as he gazed at her. "I trusted you, love."

She couldn't help but grin and, strange as it was, she let her gaze drop, as though she were a bashful maiden once again. "Tell me," she said after she'd recovered somewhat, "what about the Faires?"

Link scowled. "Nasty little blighters…if I'd known the trouble they'd cause I'd have had them incarcerated a long time ago."

"You did have them incarcerated," Zelda pointed out. "At least, some of them."

Link frowned in confusion. "I did?"

Almost rolling her eyes, Zelda laughed. "Those Healing Fairies you kept in bottles? Remember?"

"Oh, yes." The Shadow Lord nodded. "Best place for them."

"I'm sure."

"I'm glad you agree, love."

Zelda shook her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "So…the Fairies?"

"Well…" the Shadow Lord said. He flinched as the Princess playfully flicked at his brow. "The little buggers are learning to live together in 'peace and harmony'." The bite in his voice told her exactly what he thought about that particular state of affairs. "There's the occasional tiff – someone getting their wings in a twist, as usual – but at least they're not trying to kill each other."

"I'm glad."

A sudden memory popped into the Shadow Lord's mind. "Oh, yes, I forgot," he said. "They've appointed themselves a Queen. A real one, too, not the nasty little poseur that was running around beforehand."

"Let me guess," Zelda replied, blinking. "Hawthorne?"

"No." There was a sly sense of satisfaction in Link's voice. "Navi."

The Shadow Lady's eyes widened. "Navi…" she breathed. "She's going up in the world, I see. Does this mean I have to call her 'Your Majesty' and open diplomatic relations with the Fairies?"

"Banquets and balls with the Fairies," said Link. "I can hardly still myself in anticipation."

"Just try not to cause an incident by accidentally sitting on one of them."

"No, I'll cause an accident by deliberately sitting on one of them."

The Shadow Lady gave him a playful slap. "The Kokiri…" she said. "How is Saria?"

"The little love and her friends have decided to stay in their fancy new village – secluded hermit's monastery that shuts out outsiders is what I'd call it – in Killyjanmaro. They seem to be quite content there." He paused, then, "That reminds me. I'm taking you to Kokiri Forest…you haven't been, have you, love?"

"Not since I was a child…I didn't see much. The Kokiri are very insular."

"Lonely, isolated and petty that's what they are. Oh, we are so special…we're little children living all alone in the middle of a vast forest. I swear, I'm sure there are laws against this sort of thing. And they were watched over by a very old – old, I say – talking tree. Does no-one else find this strange? Does-"

"Why," said Zelda, familiar with her husband's little digressions, "are you going to take me to the Forest?"

Link glanced up at her, the earnest look back on his face. "Because you'll love it, that's why."

The Princess smiled. "Anything else I need to know?"

Swinging his legs off of the bench, the Shadow Lord of Castleton hauled himself upright, took his wife by the hand, and gently pulled her to her feet. "Just one," he said, as they began to walk onwards. "I'll like to introduce you to the team I've assigned to this garden to guard the Shadow Lady."

"Shadow Lady," Zelda said, resting her head on his shoulder once more. "I was thinking…maybe I should have a different title…one that's not connected just to you…one that shows my bond to the Royal Family as well."

Link snickered. "Don't want to live in my shadow, love, is that it?"

"Very droll."

They went over a rise, then descended down towards the gold-gilded door that marked the entrance to the garden. "What did you have in mind?"

Zelda shrugged. "Oh, I don't know…'Twilight Princess', maybe?"

Link smiled, but said nothing. He pushed open the door. "Behold," he said, satisfaction thick in his voice. "Your new personal guards."

Zelda, her mouth agape and her blinking eyes wide, stared at the two individuals standing in front of her.

"Ah, Princess," said the taller of the two. "Just seeing you and thinking of the horrors you had to endure makes me want…to…" Tears flew from his eyes. "I'm …so sorry…I just…" He threw back his head and bawled.

"Egads…" Zelda breathed.

"Alright, then!" the smaller one said, hanging onto the other man's shoulder. "Who wants a piece of _this _then?" He started making rather bawdy gestures that the Princess found slightly nauseating.

Link stepped aside, grinning.

Zelda turned to stare at him. "Dark Link?"

"I know!" said the Shadow Lord. "Wonderful, isn't it?"

"Are you insane?"

The smile from Link's face vanished in a flash. "But-" he protested, genuine confusion lining his face. "It was your idea!"

The Princess gaped. "_My _idea?"

"Yes!" The Shadow Lord looked hurt. "_You're_ the one who's always saying we shouldn't kill the criminals in Hyrule, that we should, instead, rehabilitate them so that they make a positive impact on society."

"Do you actually think I feel safe with him? I'd feel more secure with Tingle dancing naked in the rain."

"Oh well, _that_ can be arranged, let me tell-"

"I cannot _bloody _believe-"

And so we leave the happy couple, enshrouded in the dizzy haze of true love, to their tender little confabulation, their voices scattering the birds in fright and sending small animals diving deep underground for cover. It wouldn't be long before they would kiss and make up, realising that tiny obstacles such as this were not enough to even dent the cast-iron bond - forged in the fires of friendship, mutual understanding, a penchant for avoiding certain death and a healthy dose of patience - that had grown between them. And, as with all tales involving fairies, the Shadow Lord and the Shadow Lady lived happily ever after.

Until the next time, that is.

_Finis_

**A/N: **So, the one-shot that morphed into a full-length story has now spawned a sequel. Well, that _was _fun; hopefully this one was a little more structured and a little less mean-spirited than the last one.

When a certain someone politely prodded me (it involved torture and threats to burn down my house) to write another Shadow Lord story, I decided I would go back to basics – to go back to the tried and trusted plots of the original Zelda games and write a fairy-tale style save-the-princess story. Only this time, the pop-culture references and the Shadow Lord's sense of humour added just an extra twist of lemon (no, not _that _kind of lemon! Get your minds out of the gutter!).

And, I _finally_ filled in that plot hole from 'The Apprentice.' Since someone asked two chapters ago and for those of you that have followed all four of my stories, the 'Last of the Links' appears as a semi-good guy (I guess he learned his lesson) in the 'Moment of Truth' chapter in 'The Apprentice.' His appearance, though, contradicts the events of 'Rebel Assassin' (if you think about it) and so I had to find a different 'Last Link' to use. And so the circle is now complete (that's five Star Wars references in this story for those keeping score) and all four of my stories have a loose thread that ties them together.

A big thank-you to everyone who left a review. I _really _do appreciate it. Let me know what you thought of this one!

Hmm…I'm _almost_ tempted to write a story using little Link and little Zelda…

Peace,

Split Infinitive


End file.
